Seasonal miscellany
Each year the Trinity Repertory Company in Providence performs a new version of Dickens’ Christmas Carol. The plot hews more, or less depending on the year, to the original but the other elements of the novella always go up for grabs.
The story could be set in a suburban ‘50s high school or perhaps Mars for that matter. Gender roles may switch or split. This year’s Ghost of Christmas Present is a flamboyant drag queen who ogles one of Fred’s party guests; Fred is female (“lovely name” quips Christmas past). Marley is a zombie attended and tormented by zombies. Tiny Tim is not lame; he is autistic.
Scenes may be added or deleted. This year a woman sings for her supper at the public house where Scrooge buys dinner. The production is in part homage to English Music Hall of the Edwardian era (but also includes reference to The Hobbit , Broadway musicals, obliquely to AIDS and more) and so the song she sings is ‘Miss Fogarty’s Christmas Cake,’ written in or about 1883 for the London stage.
‘Miss Fogarty’ was popular enough for its author, a Bostonian called, appropriately, C. Frank Horn, to draft a sequel, ‘Miss Mulligan’s Home-made Pie.’ Among its many appealing peculiarities, Newfoundland has its peculiar version of ‘Miss Fogarty,’ “The Trinity Cake.”
The original Horn songs satirize Irish incompetence and inflexibility--notwithstanding its granite texture the protagonists persist in attempting to cut and eat the cake with various implements including hatchet, saw and, in maritime Newfoundland, handspike. If they manage to wrangle a mangled hunk diners go dyspeptic, fall down dead or wish they could.
The Irish have appropriated ‘Miss Fogarty’ as their own which in theory is winning and winsome but with for the most part unfortunate effect. Extant recordings bear the stamp of ‘traditional’ Irish bands and their attendant mannerism but the lyrics alone deliver holiday delight.
So….
Miss Fogarty’s Christmas Cake:
1. 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.
2. 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
3. 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,
For I've had quite enough of your cake
4. 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
The Trinity Cake, by Johnny Burke of St. John’s, Newfoundland:
As I leaned o’er the rail of the Eagle,
The letter boy brought unto me,
A little gilt-edged invitation,
Sayin’ the girls want you over for tea.
Sure I knew the O’Hooligans sent it,
And I went just for old friendship sake,
And the first thing they gave me to tackle,
Was a slice of the Trinity Cake.
There were bird calls, flutes, and mouth organs,
With handles of double edged files,
Corners of clergymen’s pockets,
And pieces of broken bass viols.
Blue lights and petticoat jumpers,
That would build up a fine stomach ache,
For ’twould kill a man twice after eating a slice
Of this wonderful Trinity Cake.
Mrs O’Hooligan, proud as a peacock,
Kept smilin‘ and blinkin’ away,
While her daughter Johanna, a spinster,
Was helping the boys to the “tay”.
There was everything on the table,
That a man or a woman could take,
And my eyes nearly burst from their sockets,
For a taste of the Trinity Cake.
Ellen Reardigan wanted to taste it,
And she struggled near ready to bust,
Two sealers attacked it with hand spikes,
To try and remove the top crust.
Then McCarthy went out for a hatchet,
And Flannigan grabbed an old saw,
That cake was enough, by the powers,
To paralyze any man’s jaw.
McCarthy complained of his stomach,
And Morgan felt bad in the head,
And Hogan crawled near the melodeon,
And fervently wished he was dead.
And Flannigan grabbed the accordion,
And there he did wriggle and shake,
And all of them swore they were poisoned or more,
From eating this wonderful cake.
There were glass eyes, bull’s eyes, and fresh butter,
Lampwicks and liniment, too,
Pastry as hard as a shutter,
That a billy goat’s jaw couldn’t chew.
Tobacco and whiskers of crackies,
That would give you the fever and ache,
You’d crack off from the knees, if you happen to sneeze,
After eating this Trinity Cake.