Songs To While The Time (And Shed A Tear) By –Tom Paxton’s She Sits On The Table …Take Two   

 

…it wasn’t the first time he had done it, not by a long shot, not the first time in a drunken rage he had beaten her (the only difference was the quantity of whiskey imbibed), beaten her for some small thing. Make himself the king-hell-king of his domain by, as he called it, “twisting” her to his will (not leaving it to the fates to just control her mentally). Maybe supper was not ready on time, or was not to his taste, or there was too much salt or too little (although she, he said, back when love was in full bloom, was a great cook, had won his heart through her stomach delights). Maybe the sink was not cleaned (or name the not clean enough thing), maybe she had over-starched his shirts, maybe, maybe about five thousand possible maybes. Worse, worse by far, for no reason, for the sake of his silly kingship like he was some oriental potentate.  

But as the song she kept singing in her head to chase a moment’s blues away said - where could she turn to, where could she go. She and the three kids, two, four and six, already weary of their father’s rage (although he never touched them, she never let him touch them in his rage minutes, she was the punching bag). Her grandmother who raised her after her mother had left her alone in an apartment and taken off with some motorcycle guy said she had to stay with him for the sake of the children. She, the grandmother, had been through the drunken rages of her grandfather and had been told, no ordered to if it came to it, to stay with him for that reason and she cowered by everything around her stayed with him with the two kids (one that errant daughter) until the night he crashed that drunken car over the Adamsville Bridge.

Grandmother too, perhaps, just perhaps, no judge of men had proclaimed like her own parents before her that her granddaughter had made a match made in heaven. Moreover, and this hovered over the generations like the plague, the generations of women in this woe-begotten family  had made a holy vow, a Catholic eternal vow, to stick, stick no matter what. And grandmother had given her the same advice that her best friend (and bride’s maid) had given her in her time -stay with him, stay he will grow out of his rages. For a while she listened to anybody who could make sense of the whole thing, the cops, social workers, priests, listened closely as 2012 turned to 2013. Grabbed some legal help too, got a restraining order, but weakened when he seemed to improve. But that last time she was the one with the black eye, she was the one with the busted rib, she was the one who was tired of it all. 

 

One night she swore, swore to God and all that was holy that she would leave him the next time, swore she would kill him if she had to (but where could she turn to, where could she go)…     

*****

SHE SITS ON THE TABLE
(Tom Paxton)

She sits on the table in a dress made of paper
Diplomas all over the wall
One university, one school of medicine
She's overwhelmed by it all
The nurse is all sympathy, voice of experience:
Let's have a look at that eye
It's going to look bad for a week, maybe more
Go on, darling, it's all right to cry

(CHORUS): How can I leave him, she is crying
What could I do, where would I go?
He didn't mean it, he will change someday
Oh, God, how he used to love me so

The doctor is busy, his manner professional
She finds she must look at the floor
He looks at her eye, at her ribs and her arm
And it seems every last inch is sore
The doctor is handsome, he smells of cologne
And his figure's athletically slim
He speaks disapprovingly: What did you do
To deserve such a beating from him?

(CHORUS)

The policeman is waiting outside in the corridor
He speaks to her as to a child
He's friends with her husband, he's angry with her
And he asks if there'll be charges filed
She says she's not sure, she needs time to recover
She feels beaten down in disgrace
The policeman asks isn't she secretly glad
For a man who'll keep her in her place

(CHORUS)
@feminist @abuse
Copyright Tom Paxton
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