Ward 8 at the Q.E., somewhere down Woodville

A smoky grey Thursday - take out your sword

Stewie was born, there was blood on the sheets

The doctor was drunk and the sister was bored

Home was a weatherboard Housing Trust unit

A low cyclone fence and a sparse gravel drive

Dad was a truckie from Adelaide to Melbourne

Two trips a week just to keep them alive

The first sentence for Stewie was going to school

In prison-grey trousers he marched in the yard

His mum shed a tear at his vaselined pushback

Clutching a ruler, his name on a card

"Step forward, Stewart Bedson," the headmaster said

It seemed like Stewie was always in strife

"Step forward, Stewart Bedson," the magistrate said

"This time 10 years – next time, life"

Grades 1 through 7 passed pretty quickly

Detention and caning and one million lines

Stewie could write just enough to get by

Stewie could read all the shoplifting signs

There was a bond for a biro and a fine for some fags

Another kid's bike, leading up to a car

Photographs, fingerprints, juvenile courthouse

A year in McNally's for going too far

"Step forward, Stewart Bedson," the magistrate said

Over pine-panelled wood leaned the face of the law

"We think you're a threat to property and justice

Three years up the creek while we make sure"

A robbery with violence for retaliation

For beatings and bashings at the hands of the screws

Time in and time out and time and again

Is this what they mean by paying your dues?

Some people had plenty while others had none

For the same working week it seemed year after year

Worked over by coppers for tipping the scales

Life wasn't meant to be easy

"Step forward, Stewart Bedson," the magistrate said

Over pine-panelled wood leaned the face of the law

"We think you're a threat to property and justice

Three years up the creek while we make sure"

Ward 8 at the Q.E., somewhere down Woodville

A smoky grey Thursday - take out your sword

Stewie was born, there was blood on the sheets

The doctor was drunk and the sister was bored