A song written by Charles Dickens has just been discovered, and printed in today's Guardian. Here is the story behind it – it was actually written as an advertisement for the Boot Polish Company where he was employed for a short time when he was a boy.

Very singable – the tune apparently is "Sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane" though the words don't owe too much to it - it's not a parody so much as a pastiche of the genre, and charmingly done. Anyway, here is the song:

The Turtle Dove

As lonely I sat on a calm summer's morning,
To breathe the soft incense that flow'd on the wind;
I mus'd on my boots in their bright beauty dawning,
By Warren's Jet Blacking - the pride of mankind.
...
On a maple-tree near sat a turtle bewailing,
With sorrowful cooings, the loss of her love;
Each note that she utter'd seem'd sadness exhaling,
And plaintively echo'd around the still grove.
When lo! in my boots the lone mourner perceived
Her form, and suppos'd that her lover was there;
Even I, that the vision was real, half believed -
The Blacking reflected her image so clear.
...
How wild were her cries, when the fairy illusion
She found but a cheating and transient shade;
Like Hope's airy dreams but a faded delusion,
That shone in the bloom Warren's Blacking displayed.
I pity'd the dove, for my bosom was tender -
I pity'd the strain that she gave to the wind;
But I ne'er shall forget the superlative splendour
Of Warren's Jet Blacking - the pride of mankind.

And here is Sweet Jessie, the flower of Dunblane for comparison:

JESSIE, THE FLOWER OF DUNBLANE^^

The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Ben Lomond
And left the red clouds to reside o'er the scene
While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloamin'
To muse on sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dunblane.
How sweet is the brier wi' its saft faulding blossom
And sweet is the birk wi' its mantle o' green
But sweeter and fairer and dear to this bosom
Is charming young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dunblane.
Is charming young Jessie, is charming young Jessie
Is charming young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dunblane.

2. She's modest as on-y and blythe as she's bonnie
For guileless simplicity makes her its aim
And far be the villain, divested of feeling
Wha'd blight in its bloom, the sweet flow'r of Dunblane.
Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the evening
Thour't dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen
Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning
Is charming young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dunblane.
Is charming young Jessie, is charming young Jessie
Is charming young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dunblane.

3. How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie
The sports o' the city seem'd foolish and vain
I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie
Till charm'd wi' sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dunblane.
Tho' mine were the station of liftiest grandeur
Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain
And reckon as naething, the height of its splendour
If wanting sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dunblane
If wanting sweet Jessie, if wanting sweet Jessie
If wanting sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dunblane.