There are hard times ahead in many a bleak house, it is said as great expectations all come to nothing A Christmas carol we won’t hear, nor church bells’ festive cheer, in our blasted, bleak midwinter With frozen water, iron-hard, a cheerless Tiny Tim will starve and Herbert’s pocket will remain empty There may be deepest snow, Joe Gargery’s forge will not glow and little Pip he may be abandoned. Satis House will be fried, Pip’s hopes all denied and Estella a downhearted bride. Out on the marshes, let’s have no scoffing at the lozenged-coffins of Pip’s dear, departed siblings. All five taken away, with their parents, one day, so, leaving our hero an orphan, But once Magwitch is near, Pip shudders with fear when a file and some food are requested With choice of murder most foul or big sister’s fearful howl Pip soon finds his voice And commits to a crime, which though trivially small will, in time, fatefully resound upon all. He makes up his mind, hopes pie and file she’ll not find and promises Magwitch to steal them. So, with scenes sad and sentimental, And many purely coincidental, Charles Dickens denies expectations.
