Oh to be in prison now that April’s here.
The council tax is rising
And they’ve upped the price of beer!
The kids want pocket money
The wife wants – well, don’t ask!
When all I want’s a simple fag
And ale straight from the cask.
Oh to be in prison now that April’s gone.
There’s nowt good on the telly
And they’ve built a bigger bomb.
Three square meals a day, Guv.,
And a pillow for me head.
’cos they don’t care where you come from,
If you’re black or white or red.
Oh to be in prison now that Summer’s flown.
For the Winter nights are closing
And they’ve re-possessed me home.
I lost me job on Thursday
And me car was clamped last Sun.
Well I’d stand a better chance here
If I’d asked for asylum!
Oh to be in prison through the wind and rain and hail
’Cos my bank account is frozen
And they open all my mail.
I might get to be a ‘Trusty’,
Tucked away from cold and damp.
And the worst thing that could happen
Is a touch of writer’s cramp!