Bit of cake, whipped up quick,
Spot of tea 'n cream forthwith;
All to hail a great man's birth
Whose chapters leveled death and mirth.
For Dickens' British wit and breadth,
Span of centuries since death,
Yet lives on at bedstands here,
More than hints in J's demeanor.
Read out scene of Copperfield,
Had our beef, teacups upheld;*
Lauded greatness, laughed a bit.
TuckedIn till TwentyOneTwelve clicks.
Now for Downton, since it's clear
I always read The Greats NEXT year.
*[Oh blast; t'was mugs we was lift'in,
them teacups just sit in that hutch, starin' out at us.]
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