I love fine cheeses and good claret wine;
I want others to savour these tastes when I die.
My mother loved roast beef, dripping and tea;
These things and more were served at her wake.
Her mother loved sweet apple pie and good stout;
Imagine the jigs that were danced when she died.
Her mother loved tea-brack and a large tot of gin;
A fine spread of food was laid out at her wake .
Her mother loved mash and a jug of poteen;
Good measures of spirit were there when she died.
Her mother knew only potaoes and milk;
And the last thing she ate was her spit.