Love it, my mum used to sing that to me and my siblings but it was a little different.

I had an old stocking, I filled it with lead,
I hit an old lady, right over the head.

Along came a copper, and he asked me my name,
so I gave him the answer, With a bicycle chain.

The Judge said "stand up, Son, and dry up your tears,
you're going to bostal, six month to a year."

There's bars on the ceiling, there's bars on the door,
there's bars on the piss pot, and it's nailed to the floor.

I counted the moonbeams, and I counted the stars,
I counted four thousand, of those bostal bars.

If I was the Jailer, and the jailer was me,
I'd wake up one morning, and set myself free.

But I'm not the jailer, and the jailer he ain't me,
so I can't wait one mornin', to set myself free.