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As I sat at my window last evening,
The letterman brought unto me;
A little gilt-edged invitation,
Sayin', "Gilhooley come over to tea."
Sure, I knew that the Fogartys sent it,
So I went just for old friendship's sake;
And the first thing they give me to tackle,
Was a slice of Miss Fogarty's cake.
Now, there was plums and prunes and cherries,
There was 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,
Sure t'would build up a fine stomach ache;
It would kill a man twice after 'atin' a slice,
Of Miss Fogarty's Christmas cake.
Miss Mulligan wanted to taste it,
But really there wasn't no use;
They worked at it over an hour,
And they couldn't get none of it loose.
Till Kelly come in with a hatchet,
And Murphy come in with a saw;
That cake was enough be the powers,
To paralyze any man's jaw.
Now, there was plums and prunes and cherries,
There was 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,
Sure t'would build up a fine stomach ache;
It would kill a man twice after 'atin' a slice,
Of Miss Fogarty's Christmas cake.
Miss Fogarty, proud as a peacock,
Kept smiling and blinking away;
Till she fell over Flanagan's brogans,
And she spilt the homebrew in her tea.
"Oh, Gilhooley," she cried, "you're not eatin',
Try a little bit more for my sake."
"No thanks, Missus Fogarty," says I,
But I'd like the resate* for that cake."
Now, there was plums and prunes and cherries,
There was 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,
Sure t'would build up a fine stomach ache;
It would kill a man twice after 'atin' a slice,
Of Miss Fogarty's Christmas cake.
Maloney was took with the colic,
McNulty complained of his head;
McFadden lay down on the sofa,
And he swore that he wished he was dead.
Miss Daly fell down in hysterics,
And there she did wriggle and shake;
While every man swore he was poisoned,
Through eating Miss Fogarty's cake.
Now, there was plums and prunes and cherries,
There was 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,
Sure t'would build up a fine stomach ache;
It would kill a man twice after 'atin' a slice,
Of Miss Fogarty's Christmas cake.
