Having sent you all the cake ballad without rousing any response, 
I now hear from My Friend in Dunedin this, 
all news to me:

The cake poem was a favourite (or 'fave', nowadays?) of James Joyce, and the notion of killing any man twice fitted neatly into the Wake story. Being (I thought) a dedicated Joycean, I thought I would run down some of the manifestations of the cake song for you, but I lasted only as far as page 168, before I ran out of patience, and found just this (on p.6):
 
'Sobs they sighdid at Fillagain's chrissormiss wake, all the hoolivans of the nation, prostrated in their consternation and their duodismally profusive plethora of ululation. There was plumbs and grumes and cheriffs and citherers and raiders and cinemen too.'
 
Which shows me yet again the tiresome failing of FW, the lengths it put one to, to work out what the puns are hinting at, and what and where the theme(s) in any sentence are heading. And to think there are such things as Concordances to the Wake, where everything has been tracked down and elucidated - to the satisfaction at least of the Concorder!

None of which I myself can feel like following but maybe a poetryetcer may be amused.

M in S

On Nov 22, 2014, at 2:53 AM, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:

> My friend in Dunedin - his childhood was spent near Belfast - has been preparing the family Christmas cake with the ingredients below,
> and kindly forwards me his inspiration. 
> 
> Season’s greetings from Max in Seattle
> 
> MISS HOOLIGAN’S CHRISTMAS CAKE
> 
> As I sat at my windy one evening,
> The letter man brought unto me
> A little gilt edged invitation,
> Saying, Gilhooly, come over to tea.
> Sure I knew that the Hooligans sent it,
> So I went just for old friendship’s sake,
> And the first thing they gave me to tackle
> Was a piece of Miss Hooligan’s cake.  
>     Chorus:
> There was plums and prunes and cherries,
> Citron and raisins and cinnamon too,
> There was nutmeg, cloves, and berries,
> And the crust it was nailed on with glue.
> There were carraway seeds in abundance,
> Sure ‘twould build up a fine stomach-ache,
> ‘Twould kill any man twice to be ‘ating a slice
> Of Miss Hooligan’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 Hooligan went for the hatchet,
> And Killy came in with a saw,
> That cake was enough, by the powers,
> To paralyze any man’s jaw.
>   (Chorus)
> 
> Mrs Hooligan, proud as a peacock,
> Kept smiling and blinking away,
> Till she fell over Flanigan’s brogans,
> And spilled a whole brewing of tay.
> ’Oh, Gilhooly,’ she cried, ‘you’re not ‘ating,
> Try a little bit more for my sake,’
> ’No, Mrs Hooligan,’ sez I,
> ’But I’d like the resate of that cake.’                          [receipt / recipe]
>    (Chorus)
> 
> Maloney was took with the colic,
> M’Nulty complained of his head,
> M’Fadden lay down on the sofa,
> And 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 ‘ating Miss Hooligan’s cake. 
>   (Chorus)