It was a funeral wake fit for a king. The remains of Glen Hansard lay in state on Monday in the old chapel of the Royal Hospital Kilmainham (RHK), a building constructed in the 1680s as a retirement home for veteran soldiers.Mourners queuing to pay their respects first had to file through the former dining hall, past paintings of actual monarchs from the last 250 years of British rule in Ireland.The hall was shorn of all furniture for this sad occasion, except for the portraits, which included William III, Queen Anne, and the man who commissioned the hospital, Charles II.One Hansard fan, meanwhile, was unimpressed by their accidental attendance at the wake and suggested replacing them with a different kind of royalty. “They should take those down and put up Luke Kelly and Christy and Glen instead,” he murmured to friendsThousands attended a public wake for the singer/songwriter Glen Hansard at IMMA. Photograph: Bryan O’Brien / The Irish Times Over the entrance to the chapel, an ornate carving depicted instruments of both music and war: weapons mingling with lyres, harps, and violins. But weapons have long been on ceasefire at the RHK, which stopped being a military hospital in the 1920s, and now hosts the Irish Museum of Modern Art.And inside the chapel on Monday, it was music only, as a much-loved singer-songwriter rested in peace to the backdrop of fiddles, flutes, and songs from former band members and friends.Singer Paddy Casey joins mourners at a public wake for Glen Hansard. Photograph: Sam Boal / Collins The Coolin, Spancil Hill, the Parting Glass, and Raglan Road were among the many traditional tunes performed. Fiddle player and member of The Frames Colm Mac Com Iomaire played airs including Carrickfergus. Liam Ó Maonlaí sang Mo Ghile Mear, the old lament for Bonny Prince Charlie.The display around Hansard’s coffin was worthy of Gaelic nobility. His closed wicker casket lay on a wooden table, the foot of which was draped with a Tricolour. The rest and the casket itself were covered with greenery.Foliage of the season included blackberry bushes, holly, cow parsley, moss and dock plants gone to seed. There was a bed of ferns and bracken underneath the table, and at its head, oak saplings in pots.A picture of Hansard maintained the theme. He was captured sitting in a field somewhere, with his guitar, on a sunny day past. His guitars, acoustic and electric, formed a guard of honour at the foot of the coffin.Mourners stood, or sat in the few chairs provided, for however long they wanted. Nobody rushed them through. Many cried, quietly or openly. Most reached across the table to touch the casket before leaving. Some also touched the guitars. Occasionally, fellow musicians left plectrums.People sign books of condolences at a public wake for the singer/songwriter Glen Hansard. Photograph Bryan O’Brien / The Irish Times Out in the cloistered courtyard, bereaved fans signed one of the six condolence books set out in a line. The messages were from all over the world: “Liverpool”, “Hamburg”, “São Paulo”, “Sydney”, “Cootehill”. Someone quoted Walt Whitman: “O Captain! My captain!” “Thanks for all the sessions,” wrote another.A young, bearded man in a hat signed the book while carrying a backpack with a toothbrush in the side pocket. He was Dan Madigan, artist and graphic designer, who was just back from holiday in Italy and attending the wake on his way home.His companion Roisín Power Hackett, also an artist and poet, had been a fan of Hansard’s voice and lyrics since her mid-teens: “He was one of my heroes, a big part of my life,” she said. When breaking the terrible news to her in Italy, friends and family worried how she would cope. Even Madigan’s mother was telling him: “Make sure Roisín’s okay.”They both thought the wake beautiful. “It wasn’t sad,” said Madigan, then corrected himself. “It was sad, obviously. But the music was lovely and so was everything else and the display. Ireland is good at this.”By lunchtime, a musical session was breaking out in the courtyard too. And among the hundreds still queuing outside was Barra Donovan from Swords, who had brought a guitar on his back.Musicians playing at a public wake for Glen Hansard at the Irish Museum of Modern Art in Dublin. Photograph: Damien Eagers/PA Wire Himself a singer-songwriter, he was inspired by Hansard but never saw him live. Then, only last Sunday night, he met him in a Dublin music venue, Whelan’s. Neither thought for a moment then that it would also be their last meeting. But Hansard was “very nice, very friendly” and left him with a piece of hard-earned career advice: “Just keep at it and don’t stop.”