Charles Dickens
I lived a happy life âtil I was ten years old
When debt landed dad in prison and our country house
Was sold
Lodged with a lady in her London flat so cold
Worked at a boot polish factory, labelling jars quite
Dull be told
Goodness only knows
I was a miserable soul
For a time I went to school but then I found a job
As a clerk to a lawyer, oh it made my poor head throb
I failed to be an actor, despite my loud gob
Ended up reporting speeches of the parliamentary mob
Then as everybody knows
I started writing prose
Put my life into my books
Friends and enemies and crooks
Legal bosses up they crop
In âThe Old Curiosity Shopâ
Fagin in âOliver Twistâ
A factory pal, you get the gist
And although my memoryâs quite foggy
Got Scrooge from the grave of Ebenezer Scroggy
My first book was an overnight sensation
But I drove myself too hard to enjoy the adulation
Despite my wealth, my family begged for money
I wrote of it in âChuzzlewitâ which people said was
Funny
Didnât sell like books before
My family still asked for more
âLittle Dorritâ is a tale
About my dad in debtorâs jail
While âHard Timesâ tells my life âbout
When I tried to leave my wife
âLittle Nellâsâ death was my poor dear
Departed sister-in-law
And âDavid Copperfieldâ, working in a factory
I must confess that that was really me
In my life, felt shamed âbout poverty in childhood
Wrote about sadness, suffering and fears
Also wrote about people with funny names
Bumble, Smallweed, Scrooge, Uriah Heep
And Wackford Squeers
Whilst writing âEdwin Droodâ
A train crash didn't help my mood
Still I drove myself on
With readings far across the pond
Died before I wrote Droodâs end
Sort of thing drove me âround the bend
So Dickens, take a dickens, take a bow
And Heaven knows
Iâm miserable now