Áine ...

Bit late in the day ... but hope it gives you a laugh anyway!

To the tune of "Finnegan's Wake".

Áine's Wake

Áine lived out Texas way, where she carried a torch for the dear oul' sod
Her gaelicness you can't deny, though I'd draw the line at the female God!
And now and again she'd throw the gauntlet, write a song at my command
And there we were, a-liltin', strummin', scribin' – woman, child and man

Whack fol da da do, dance to your partner, round the floor your trotters shake
Isn't it the truth I tell you, lots of fun at Áine's wake

One day the awful truth it dawned, sight of Áine we'd not seen
For weeks or months, the cry went out, "Where are you Áine, mavourneen"
But no reply, the lonely echo rippled home across the void
"Ah, holy Jaysus bless and save us! The oul' TGG has up and died!"

Whack fol da da do, dance to your partner, round the floor your trotters shake
Isn't it the truth I tell you, lots of fun at Áine's wake

We started threads and tore our hair out, bashin' out the oul' PMs
Weepin', keenin' blurtin', bawlin' … wrote laments and sad po-ems
Seekin' solace, consolation, from our comrades on the Cat
(And some of us, I'm shamed to say, went on a bender after that!)

Whack fol da da do, dance to your partner, round the floor your trotters shake
Isn't it the truth I tell you, lots of fun at Áine's wake

But when at last the truth it dawned, we scarcely could contain our glee
The word went out, there's been a sighting in the thread about Drumcree (not literally, couldn't resist the rhyme!)
"Away to hell, ye hape o' nancies", says Áine, tossing her red head
"The 'mount o' guff youse boys are talkin' you'd think to Christ that I was dead!"

Whack fol da da do, dance to your partner, round the floor your trotters shake
Isn't it the truth I tell you, lots of fun at Áine's wake