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Mrs. Fogharty's Christmas Cake
(c) 1883, Frank Horn. This song is in the Public Domain. Recorded by
Darby O'Gill, "Irish Christmas Rollick", 2004, Dog Sheet Music. (et al).
Notes: The tribulations associated with trying to serve or eat the
traditional holiday fruitcake..
Miss Fogherty’s Christmas Cake
(PD) - (c) Frank Horn 1883

    E            A                E                            A                 B
As I sat at my window last evenin’ the letterman brought unto me
 B          A           E                      F#                           B
A little gilt-edged invitation sayin’: Bill Hooly, come over to tae
        E                  A              E
Sure, I knew that the Fogherty’s sent it; so I went, just for old friendship’s sake
         A                                     E                                   B              E
And the first thing they gave you to tackle was a slice o’ Miss Fogherty’s cake
                      E              A              E
Now, there were plums and prunes and cherries

There were saffrons and raisins and cinnamon too
             E            A             E
There was nutmegs, cloves and berries
         F#                                    B
And the crust that was held on with glue
              E           A           E
There were caraway seeds in abundance
                       A                 B
Sure to build up a fine stomach ache
          E                                A
It would kill a man twice just for eatin’ a slice
         E               B             E
Of Miss Fogherty’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 came in with a hatchet And Murphy came in with a saw
That cake was enough, by the powers To paralyze any man’s jaw
Miss Fogherty, proud as a peacock Kept smilin’ and blinkin’ away
Till she fell over Flannigan’s broggins And spilled the whole brew of her tae
Oh, Bill Hooly, she cried, you’re not eatin’ Try a little bit more for my sake
No thanks, Mrs. Fogherty, says I But I’d Like the receipt o’ that cake
Maloney was took with the colic McKnolte complained of his head
McFadden laid down on the sofa And he swore that he wished he was dead
Miss Daily fell down in hysterics And there she did wriggle and shake
While every man swore he was poisoned For eatin Miss Fogherty’s cake
Listen to this song
Go to the CD "Irish Christmas
Irish Christmas Rollick