In my Great Expectations,
There is no celebration,
But I might find a song or two.
Mrs Lirriper's Lodgings,
Feature financial dodgings,
Could I make Siegfried's Idyll fit?
Then there's the Tale of Two Cities,
Which as fiction is shitty,
And as a pop song may be worse ,

I'm dreaming - that I can make some cash,
By simply rehashing
Dickens to Wagner's tunes,
I just hope no-one sues.

This is just so trashy, trashy, trashy, trashy. ;
I just want is children's cash.
This is just so trashy, trashy, trashy, trashy. ;
I just want is children's cash.

I should fuse a Christmas Carol,
With Der Ring des Nibelungen,
But cut it down to three minutes.
If I nick Chuzzlewit,
Then we might have a hit,
But some git's nicked Quaverly.
It's not clever, it's not subtle,
But you know that sex sells,
Miss Minogue's arse shows on

the cover - I'm making so much cash,
By simply rehasing,
Dickens to Wagner's tunes,
I just hope that no-one sues.

This is just so trashy, trashy, trashy, trashy. ;
I just want is children's cash.
This is just so trashy, trashy, trashy, trashy. ;
I just want is children's cash.

The Uncommercial Traveller,
Just needed a sampler,
Before he could have stormed the charts.
When it comes to Little Dorrit,
I pity the poor tit,
Who had to wirte such banal crap.
There's nothing in Nickleby,
That can't be improved with Valkyries,
Can Astley fit the costume

I'm wondering - how I made so much cash,
By selling all this trash,
Dickens to Wagner tunes,
I wonder is it true...

This is just so trashy, trashy, trashy, trashy. ;
I just want is children's cash.
This is just so trashy, trashy, trashy, trashy. ;
I just want is children's cash.