She's working seven days a week,
Two jobs, no rest, no play.
In return, his happiness she seeks,
But she's rewarded with his complaints.
She cooks and cleans, lays out his clothes,
When he showers, his back she'll wash.
Through all this, surely she knows,
Her self-esteem he'll squash.
He puts her down, he yells and accuses,
Nothing is ever enough.
His temper mounts and he leaves bruises,
Each night when he drinks too much.
Next morning, she wakes, sore from head to toe,
It's just another day.
She makes his breakfast and off to work she goes,
There's no time to dwell on the pain.