The Ballad of Jack The Painter ©Brian Hooper, late 1970s At the mouth of Portsmouth Harbour, where the old chain ferry plied, Some say a spirit hangs in chains where submarines now glide. Though his bones have gone, the Devil knows where, Jack The Painter lingers there; Now Painter Jack's just bones in a sack, but the Dockyard's working yet. Though Jack, he was a painter, as a brand he made his name; He met his fate in Portsmouth, where he set the 'Yard aflame. But the firemen bold and the seamen brave doused the flames, the fleet to save; Now Painter Jack's just bones in a sack, but the Dockyard's working yet. At Winchester the trial was held and sentence it was passed; Jack hanged at the gate of the Dockyard, from the Arethusa's mast. Though the rope store stood a blackened wreck, There was rope enough for the Painter's neck; Now Painter Jack's just bones in a sack, but the Dockyard's working yet. In chains he hung at Blockhouse Point, and stayed for many a year, 'til taken to an alehouse as a pledge to pay for beer. So if you've no money, just a body in a sack, You can try for a drink on Painter Jack; Now Painter Jack's just bones in a sack, but the Dockyard's working yet.
I learned this story from my mother.  We used to live right near the Gosport Ferry, in Old Portsmouth, and in hindsight I think the sound of the chain ferry was a more likely explanation for the sound she said was the ghost of Jack The Painter swinging in his chains.
The song is on “Hooperman In The Can”, and was published in “Folk Songs of Old Hampshire”, edited by John Paddy Browne.