Miss Fogarty’s Cake

(Source)

This last weekend McGyver was cleaning out the garage, strange but true.  As he dug through boxes, he pulled out mementos, memories, good stuff, old stuff and a lot of stuff we don’t need.  I wandered in, on  Sunday afternoon, to find things sorted and the beginnings of what could actually be a usable garage.  McGyver pulled out old photos and some old school albums, we talked and reminisced.  Then out of a box of books that had been long forgotten (probably because of the amount of books we have and the number of moves), McGyver brings out a well worn and tattered book.  The spine broken, the edges frayed and the pages yellowed.

He opened this book of Best Loved Poems of the American, Garden City Publishing Co. 1927.  In the index, next to certain poems were stars, presumably favorites like Casey at Bat and Paul Revere’s Ride.  McGyver opened the book and started reading me poetry.  Yup, right there in our garage. It just doesn’t get more romantic for a biker guy than reading poetry to his best biker chick in the garage.

He read me several random poems and then he read to me, Miss Foggerty’s Cake.  I was hooting and laughing and snickering as he read the poem, I knew that I had to share it.  It’s a perfect Christmas foodie poem.  When I got ready to put poem to post, I decided to do a little research on-line.  I discovered that the poem is also a Christmas song, the spelling is a little different and the word’s are slightly changed but still very entertaining.  I also found (no surprise) it on YouTube.

MISS FOGARTY’S CHRISTMAS CAKE

Irish Christmas Song

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.

*resate means recipe  (lyrics Source)

Stanley A. Ransom, had this information to share from Voices, the Journal of New York Folklore, Volume 33, Fall-Winter 2007.

“Miss Fogarty’s Christmas Cake” has become part of the folklore of Christmas. It has also entered the realm of folklore in a number of other ways. Edith Fowke listed it in Canadian Journal for Traditional Music in 1979 as “an old favorite.” It appears in the Columbia Granger’s Index to Poetry, with the author listed as “anonymous.” It is often reprinted. The Family Herald and Weekly Star, a Montreal publication, printed it numerous times between 1913 and 1959. The title shows some variation, with Rick Benjamin’s Paragon Ragtime Orchestra recording it as a music hall song called “Miss Hooligan’s Christmas Cake.” Digital Tradition, the database of folk songs at Mudcat Café (www.mudcat. org), includes the song and a thread in which contributors discuss the song. One contributor notes that in 1939, the song was performed by Leon Ponce in the album California Gold: Northern California Folk Music from the Thirties, a field recording collected in 1938-40 by Sidney Robertson Cowell as a WPA project.” (Source)

If Miss Fogarty’s cake isn’t enough to kill someone,  I found an iPhone app that does.  Yes, another fruitcake killer, evidently you can toss fruitcake to kill your opponents.  Someone had a sense of humor when they made this one up.  However, it does have a 5-star rating, you can find it here if you are interested (I have personally not tried it).