He was just a social drinker but social every night 
 He enjoyed a pint or two or three or four 
 She was just a silent thinker, silent every night 
 He'd enjoy the thought of killing her before 

 Well he was very rarely drunk but very rarely sober 
 And he didn't think the problem was his drink 
 But he only knew his problem when he knocked her over 
 And when the rotting flesh began to stink 

 Cry freedom for the woman in the wall 
 Cry freedom for she has no voice at all 
 I hear her cry all day, all night 
 I hear her voice from deep within the wall 
 Made a cross from knitting needles 
 Made a grave from hoover bags 
 Especially for the woman in the wall 

 She'd knitted him a jumper with dominoes on 
 So he wore it everyday in every week 
 Pretended to himself that she hadn't really gone 
 Pretended that he thought he heard her speak 

 Then at last it seemed that he was really winning 
 He felt that he had some sort of grip 
 But all of his new life was sent a-spinning 
 When the rotting wall began to drip