© lyrics 1985 Lyn Hardy and Donna Hébert, traditional melody from the Appalachian murder ballad “Polly Pretty Polly.” Rude Girls: Rude Awakening, Flying Fish, 1987; Smithsonian Folk Song America Anthology, 1988.
O my name is Francine Hughes and I’ll tell you no lie
Come listen to my story and I’ll try to keep from cryin’
I murdered my husband, there ain’t no denyin’
Mickey, oh Mickey, I’m a-feard of your ways
Mickey, oh Mickey, I’m a-feard of your ways
You raped me and you beat me for the last time today
I’ve lived with your misery the best years of my life
‘Cause I thought that’s what’s expected of a good and lovin’ wife
Well, I’m takin’ the kids and I’m leavin’ tonight
Well he kicked me and he cuffed me until I could not see
“I’ll show you what I’ll do to you if you try to get away from me,
Cause the Lord says your mine, until eternity.”
I lay there on the carpet and my life blood did flow
And he grabbed another six-pack and he watched his TV show
Then he staggered upstairs and to bed he did go
Well, one eye slowly opened and the other one could not
My head spun round in circles and my blood ran cold and hot
And I thought about my children asleep up in their cots
So slowly, slowly I got up and went out to the shed
I grabbed a can of gasoline and I poured it around his bed
And I lit a book of matches and I threw it at his head
I gathered up my children and I took them to my side
Said, “there’s nothin’ left to fear now,” and away we did ride
When I got down to the jailhouse, I broke right down and cried
Well the sheriff and his deputy, they locked me in the jail
They took my children from me, which made them weep and wail
For the horror of my crime, the judge refused my bail
Many months had passed and gone until it came the day
Before the judge and jury I finally had my say
I told them my sad story of torture and pain
Well, the jury found me innocent, not guilty of the crime
They said that at the time I was not in my right mind
They gave me back my children, a new life for to find
Well, you’ve given me my liberty, you think you’ve set me free
But every eighteen seconds a woman’s beaten just like me
And every day in court, another batterer goes free
Lyn Hardy and I wrote this sitting on the porch of the house we shared in the 80s. We hated those murder ballads where she (and it’s almost always a she) gets killed because of some male family member, husband or boyfriend’s anger. We decided instead to write about a woman who had killed her husband for the strongest reason: survival. Francine Hughes was from Michigan, as are Lyn’s family, so this hit home. We imagined the song into being, often completing each other’s lines, and only when the song was done did we read “The Burning Bed,” Hughes biography. Realizing how close we came to her reality, my hackles still rise when I sing this one.
What isn’t in the song is how little support Francine Hughes received from either family members (who continually sent her back to her batterer) or from law enforcement, who saw her problem as a family matter they couldn’t interfere with. Her case set a legal precedent for the “battered woman” defense. But the 18 seconds in the last verse has sadly come down to 9 seconds. For more statistics, see http://domesticviolencestatistics.org/domestic-violence-statistics/