Welcome, December!

As I sat in my window last evening/ The letterman brought it to me/ A little gilt-edged invitation sayin’/ “Gilhooley come over to tea”…

3 comments

Here’s a favorite to get you into the mood for Christmas…  Enjoy!

MISS FOGARTY’S CHRISTMAS CAKE
Irish Christmas Song

As I sat in my window last evening
The letterman brought it to me
A little gilt-edged invitation sayin’
“Gilhooley come over to tea”
I knew that the Fogarties sent it.
So I went just for old friendships sake.
The first thing they gave me to tackle
Was a slice of Miss Fogarty’s cake.

Chorus: There were plums and prunes and cherries,
There were citrons and raisins and cinnamon, too
There was nutmeg, cloves and berries
And a crust that was nailed on with glue
There were caraway seeds in abundance
Such that work up a fine stomach ache
That could kill a man twice after eating a slice
Of Miss Fogarty’s Christmas cake.

Miss Mulligan wanted to try it,
But really it wasn’t no use
For we worked in it over an hour
And we couldn’t get none of it loose
Till Murphy came in with a hatchet
And Kelly came in with a saw
That cake was enough be the powers above
For to paralyze any man’s jaws

Miss Fogarty proud as a peacock,
Kept smiling and blinking away
Till she flipped over Flanagans brogans
And she spilt the homebrew in her tea
Aye Gilhooley she says you’re not eatin,
Try a little bit more for me sake
And no Miss Fogarty says I,
Any more and me stomach would break

Maloney was took with the colic,
O’Donald’s a pain in his head
Mc’Naughton lay down on the sofa,
And he swore that he wished he was dead
Miss Bailey went into hysterics
And there she did wriggle and shake
And everyone swore they were poisoned
Just from eating Miss Fogarty’s cake

3 comments on “Welcome, December!”

  1. I haven’t laughed so hard in years as I recalled my mother’s adventures with her Pineapple Upside Down cakes and her dogged determination to find “the right pineapple that wouldn’t ruin her recipe” which if I’m not mistaken had a boatload of Caraway seeds like Miss Fogartie’s. My lovely wife is sitting across from me and was not amused by my gasping laughs. She is of course a near perfect copy of my mother.

    Liked by 1 person

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