Charles Dickens Songtext
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I lived a happy life till I was 10 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, all told
Goodness only knows
I was a miserable so-oh-oul
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
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, all told
Goodness only knows
I was a miserable so-oh-oul
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 pro-oh-ose
Put my life into my books
Friends and enemies and crooks
Legal bosses, up they crop
In the Old Curiosity Shop
Fagin in Oliver Twist?
A factory pal - you get the gist
And although my memory's quite foggy
Got Scrooge from the grave of Ebenezer Scroo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oggie
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 Chuzzlewit, which people said was funny
Didn't sell like books before
My family still asked for mo-oh-ore
Little Dorrit is a tale
About my dad in debtors' jail
While Hard Times tells my life bout when I tried to leave my wife
Little Nell's death was my poor, dear, departed sister-in-law
And David Copperfield working in a factory
I must confess that that was really me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
In my life, felt shame bout 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 Edwin Drood a train crash didn't help my mood
Still I drove myself on
With readings far across the pond
Died before I wrote Drood's end
This sort of thing drove me round the bend
So Dickens take a, Dickens take a bow
And heaven knows
I'm miserable no-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-w
Then as everybody knows
I started writing pro-oh-ose
Put my life into my books
Friends and enemies and crooks
Legal bosses, up they crop
In the Old Curiosity Shop
Fagin in Oliver Twist?
A factory pal - you get the gist
And although my memory's quite foggy
Got Scrooge from the grave of Ebenezer Scroo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oggie
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 Chuzzlewit, which people said was funny
Didn't sell like books before
My family still asked for mo-oh-ore
Little Dorrit is a tale
About my dad in debtors' jail
While Hard Times tells my life bout when I tried to leave my wife
Little Nell's death was my poor, dear, departed sister-in-law
And David Copperfield working in a factory
I must confess that that was really me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
In my life, felt shame bout 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 Edwin Drood a train crash didn't help my mood
Still I drove myself on
With readings far across the pond
Died before I wrote Drood's end
This sort of thing drove me round the bend
So Dickens take a, Dickens take a bow
And heaven knows
I'm miserable no-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-w
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