Or maybe an American song, instead of Australian:

THE BOSTON BURGLAR

I was born in the town of Boston, a place you all know well,
Brought up by honest parents, the truth to you I'll tell,
Brought up by honest parents, raised up most tenderly,
Until I became a sporting man at the age of twenty-three.

My character was taken and I was sent to jail,
My friends they came and tried in vain to get me out on bail,
The jury found me guilty, the clerk he wrote it down,
The Judge he passed the sentence, I was bound for Charlestown.

They put me on an eastbound train one cold December day,
And every station we passed through, you could hear the people say,
" There goes the Boston Burglar, in cold chains he is bound,
For one crime or other he is bound for Charlestown."

I saw my aged father standing at the bar,
Likewise me dear old mother, tearing at her hair,
Tearing at her old grey locks and trembling with a frown,
"My son, my son what have you done to be sent to Charlestown?"

There lives a girl in Boston, a girl that I love well,
If ever I gain my liberty, it is with that girl I'll dwell,
If ever I gain my liberty, there are two things I will shun,
Being a night street walker, and the drinking of strong rum.

All you who have your freedom, take a warning if you can,
Don't go round the streets at night, breaking laws of God and man,
For if you do, you'll surely rue, and find yourself like me,
Serving up full twenty years in the penitentiary.

How are we going so far?