Just For Wazza
Posted: Wed Oct 15, 2014 6:31 pm
Mrs Murphy's Christmas Cake
The local fair was almost here the country town was filled with glee
there were smiles on every young child's face streamers hung from every tree.
There would be a grand parade you know with rides and games to play
the kids grew more and more excited as it got closer to the day.
The school would judge the pet parade there would be pies and things you bake
but the most important competition was the districts finest Christmas cake.
Now Mrs Murphy held the trophy and had done so now for years
no one else had baked a better one for nigh on twenty years.
But this year things were different with a new minister in town
and his wife had vowed to enter as her cooking was renown.
The Murphy recipe was secret handed down from her old mum
but the thing that made it taste so goodwas a healthy tot of Rum.
The fair would be on Saturday then all the town would see
which cake would take the major prize and was this years champion to be.
Now Pat Murphy was a quiet man he liked a life all free of strife
one thing he did not relish was a tongue lashing from his wife.
He knew what horror lay ahead if his wife's cake did not come first
twelve months of nagging every day would be his one and only curse.
So to keep the peace and quiet though it may seem like a sin
when asked to add the tot of rum he tipped the whole damm bottle in.
The cakes were all there on display such a fine and healthy fare
the smell of pies and pastries wafted on the summer air.
The time had come to pick the champion the judges felt the growing heat
they could not split the clergy's wife's or Mary Murphy's Christmas treat.
So to keep from causing trouble they tried one final test
they passed pieces to the patrons to see which cake would taste the best.
They tried Mrs Murphy's entry first and their speech soon began to slur
Most grabbed a second piece real quick then things became a frenzied blur.
The reverend ate four pieces quickly and would have had more if he was able
but they could not get him off the floor from underneath the table.
Mrs Sinclair-Smyth went wandering they found her in the swimming pool
she still had all her clothes on so she looked a bloody fool.
The local constable was plastered he'd taken off his cloths and shoes
then sat in the local squad car the siren blaring " Blues and Twos ".
The cake baked by the clergy's wife was still sitting on its mat
while Mrs Murphy's disappeared in half a minute flat.
Mr Pilkington the local mayor started kissing everyone in sight
the local spinsters got in line this was their lucky night.
And in the background sat Pat Murphy a smile from ear to ear
a knowing look upon his face as he quietly sipped his beer.
The cup was won by Mary's cake though there was no victory roar.
they were all to busy dancing and rolling on the floor.
The greatest cake she'd ever baked was proclaimed by one and all
they partied on into the night at the Christmas party ball.
And though Mary tried to duplicate it over the years she tried to bake
she just could not get the mix the same as that famous Christmas cake.
Bob Pacey (C)
The local fair was almost here the country town was filled with glee
there were smiles on every young child's face streamers hung from every tree.
There would be a grand parade you know with rides and games to play
the kids grew more and more excited as it got closer to the day.
The school would judge the pet parade there would be pies and things you bake
but the most important competition was the districts finest Christmas cake.
Now Mrs Murphy held the trophy and had done so now for years
no one else had baked a better one for nigh on twenty years.
But this year things were different with a new minister in town
and his wife had vowed to enter as her cooking was renown.
The Murphy recipe was secret handed down from her old mum
but the thing that made it taste so goodwas a healthy tot of Rum.
The fair would be on Saturday then all the town would see
which cake would take the major prize and was this years champion to be.
Now Pat Murphy was a quiet man he liked a life all free of strife
one thing he did not relish was a tongue lashing from his wife.
He knew what horror lay ahead if his wife's cake did not come first
twelve months of nagging every day would be his one and only curse.
So to keep the peace and quiet though it may seem like a sin
when asked to add the tot of rum he tipped the whole damm bottle in.
The cakes were all there on display such a fine and healthy fare
the smell of pies and pastries wafted on the summer air.
The time had come to pick the champion the judges felt the growing heat
they could not split the clergy's wife's or Mary Murphy's Christmas treat.
So to keep from causing trouble they tried one final test
they passed pieces to the patrons to see which cake would taste the best.
They tried Mrs Murphy's entry first and their speech soon began to slur
Most grabbed a second piece real quick then things became a frenzied blur.
The reverend ate four pieces quickly and would have had more if he was able
but they could not get him off the floor from underneath the table.
Mrs Sinclair-Smyth went wandering they found her in the swimming pool
she still had all her clothes on so she looked a bloody fool.
The local constable was plastered he'd taken off his cloths and shoes
then sat in the local squad car the siren blaring " Blues and Twos ".
The cake baked by the clergy's wife was still sitting on its mat
while Mrs Murphy's disappeared in half a minute flat.
Mr Pilkington the local mayor started kissing everyone in sight
the local spinsters got in line this was their lucky night.
And in the background sat Pat Murphy a smile from ear to ear
a knowing look upon his face as he quietly sipped his beer.
The cup was won by Mary's cake though there was no victory roar.
they were all to busy dancing and rolling on the floor.
The greatest cake she'd ever baked was proclaimed by one and all
they partied on into the night at the Christmas party ball.
And though Mary tried to duplicate it over the years she tried to bake
she just could not get the mix the same as that famous Christmas cake.
Bob Pacey (C)
Don't you hate it when you experiment with a receipe and turn out a pearler and then can never duplicate it 