Apologies, fellow Mizzies; I'm afraid I left this odd little string of parodies off on an even vaguer note than is usually common with even me. But nonetheless; I return with but one parody, inspired this time by the awesome song entitled Tim Finnigan's Wake, originally sung by someone whose name I will perhaps never know.

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Grantaire hung out at the Musain

A drunken Frenchman mighty odd

He could rant of things mundane

And likened rebels to the Greek gods

You'd wonder of course how he came to be there

"By juxtaposition" is the reply

No beliefs did he declare

Yet he died for one before the come July

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner

With yer trotters a rhythm maintain

I wasn't sure just how to rhyme all

This short but complex Irish slang

One day our 'Taire got rather full

His head felt heavy which made him shake

He ran into a wall and broke his skull

Shocked rebels stood there with looks blank

They plopped him down onto a table

Not knowin' at all what they should do

And Joly was doing all he was able

Not to claim "'Twas the swine flu!"

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner

With yer trotters a rhythm maintain

I wasn't sure just how to rhyme all

This short but complex Irish slang

His acquaintances in confusion sat

In this tumult ran a debate

For so suddenly was the drunken cynic

Consigned to a short and early fate

Young Marius began to cry

And so loud and obnoxious was he

That Enjolras, though with eyes not dry

Demanded, "Quiet yourself, Pontmercy!"

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner

With yer trotters a rhythm maintain

I wasn't sure just how to rhyme all

This short but complex Irish slang

Then Combeferre took up the cry

"Pontmercy, death must in silence endure

Screaming your lungs out never brought to life

any corpse, nor gave man any cure"

"Well, have you tried?" Marius replied,

"There's no harm in it anyway."

And he continued to sob soprano-high

While the his friends stood by with eyebrows raised

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner

With yer trotters a rhythm maintain

I wasn't sure just how to rhyme all

This short but complex Irish slang

Soon Pontmercy raised a din

And Houcheloup came to throw him out

She took a chair leg to his head

But missed in her attempted clout

And hit the deceased Grantaire instead

The skeptic looked up, bleary eyed

Seeing them all somber and grim

Said he, "Sweet Dionysus, did you think I'd died?!"

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner

Round the flure yer trotters shake

Still today Joly sits and muses,

"Well, he didn't have Swine Flu, at any rate."

I'm a procrastinator. And out of practice. And just weird. Even so, do be so kind as to leave a review.

AndAndAnd! I never said this was Grade A stuff. But if you must tell me it was deplorable in said review, do it respectfully, hm?

Oh, and I can't promise even now that I'll be more active with updates. More apologies, and gratitude for reviewing and putting it on you email alert lists. I barely expected to get any reviews back when I first started this…thing of mine. My utmost thanks!