From The Lester S. Levy Collection of Sheet Music:

(A few words are doubtful, owing to the smallness of the print. Corrections are welcome.)

MCGILLIGAN'S WEDDING
Words, Wal Pink. Music, Frank Aylmer.

1. At the neat little church of old Father McEmber,
One morn in September, 'tis well I remember,
'Twas close on a frost, cold enough for December,
    When Barney McGilligan's wedding took place.
The bride was the charming Patricia O'Brady,
A neat little lady, who turned up O'Thady,
Because a jackass of his ugly self made he,
    And joined the militia, bad scran to his face!
The parson was there and neighbors galore,
With Bridgett O'Moore and bridesmaids a score.
They had patent linoleum right up the floor
    To carry the thing out in style.
The scene in the vestry was over and done.
The two were made one. We laughed at the fun,
And for a salute, Kelly fired off his gun
    As slowly they came down the aisle.
'Twas nothing but kissing and laughing and crying.
The organ was playing. The boys were hurraying.
For good luck to both, Widow Brady was praying
    And tears big as eggs they were shedding.
They pelted the elegant couple with rice,
Old slippers and shoes. It was awfully nice.
Well, I wished I'd been married myself once or twice,
    In the church at McGilligan's wedding.

2. To breakfast we went after these ceremonies.
'Twas held at Maloney's, the worst of old cronies.
The joints were hog's trotters and pickled polonies,
    With bride cake and little boys naked on top.
Says I, "It is time now the cake to be carving."
Without more palavering, the bride commenced jarring.
O'Doyle took the first piece as if he was starving,
    When Barney McGilligan told him to stop.
He swore hard and fast if O'Doyle touched the cake,
Without any mistake, a fair ruction he'd make,
And nigh every bone in his body he'd break,
    And terrible things he would do.
But Mr. O'Doyle simply answered, "All right.
If you're so polite, I'm ready to fight!"
So they cleared all the tables and chairs out of sight,
    And then came a hullabaloo.
For each tried the other to give a good licking
With dodging and tricking, and scratching and kicking.
Their fingers in each other's eyes they were sticking,
    And gallons of gore they were shedding.
When right in the midst of the bother and scene,
Somehow or another, I got shoved in between,
And both took my head for a punching machine
    On the day of McGilligan's wedding.

3. Now when they had finished their noses (?) a-wringing,
They all commenced singing. The fiddler was stringing,
And on his old fiddle, pong-panging and pinging,
    To get it tuned up for the dancing all square.
Father McGee the flute was thumbing,
The piano strumming, a funny tune humming.
'Twixt "God Save the Queen" and "The Campbells Are Coming,"
    A conglomerated and mixed-up affair.
Then sweet Kitty Flynn for a partner I found,
A dancer renowned. We went skipping around.
Like any racehorse we got over the ground,
    Till I suddenly missed Kitty Flynn.
I searched through the place, went on every floor.
No kitty I saw. I raved and I swore,
But I found her at last with a round dozen more,
    Making love to a gallon of gin.
We kept up the singing and dancing and laughing,
All merrily chaffing, the pongelow (?) quaffing.
Some of 'em whiskeying, others four-halfing,
    Till I made allusion to bedding.
Then Mr. McGilligan ended the route.
Says he to his wife, "You are sleepy, no doubt."
So he opened the door and he slung us all out
    On the night of his glorious wedding.

4. Going home, Ted McMollow such queer songs did hollow,
That blackguards did follow. Says I to McMollow,
"Just come to my house and a thimbleful swallow,
    And wait till the rascals have gone out of sight."
He did, and we drank till we scarcely could waddle.
It got in my noddle. Says Ted, "I shall toddle."
I felt like a mousey (?) half-screwed molly-coddle,
    And scarcely could speak, but I murmured good-night,
Then rolled into bed. That they'd gone, I'd no doubt;
But when he went out, they set up a shout,
And gave him an elegant smack on the snout,
    And busted out laughing like mad.
I rushed to the door and there I found Ted,
Well, nearly half dead. "Who's done it?" I said,
When somebody dropped half a brick on my head,
    Which made me feel awfully bad.
The blackguards they gave me a kicking for nothing,
A thrashing and sloshing, a bashing and boshing. (?)
My bandages now form a tidy week's washing,
    While they on the "mill" are now treading.
Should McGilligan's wife die, I am very sure he
At his second wedding will never see me.
I will go to his funeral with pleasure and glee,
    But never again to his wedding.