In a little prison where I'm locked in
There's a most peculiar fellow.
His name is Eccles and he's in cell nine,
His voice is soft and mellow.

He keeps a fruit cart in his cell,
and all the convicts knows it.
He doesn't sing or rave about his fruit,
He simply blows it.

Ba-dadat-dada da daa da!

**raspberry noises to follow**