IT'S BONFIRE NIGHT (speed-written)
It’s Bonfire night, o, come sirenise the fireworked midnights
Make sure you wrap Guideo inside fawkesfire; O, come chew on parkin;
And, where once cracknel
cracks toffees from squires may the sirenising bonfire guy come
Chanting a sparklered indigo roman rocket drama.
Tonight’s the night where the chillers treat swirling pyro-wheels beneath plotted powder-guns
It’s Bonfire night,
stay with your treason-shroud when devil's bangers and mash heap mouthing mushy peas
Across reddeners of green flume and burning romance candles
And, oo, once across a mean fire-spewn, men that hang the gassy guideos of the powers will scatter ash
Indigo children, laughing at a gunpowder moon.
The colours underneath smoked piety must entangle sweet flames with guy-fawkers whose hot long parliamented kiss
Encinders pink oven bangers with ginger beds and shouters of the firework
Pink, Purple, Silver and Gold,- Please stay back, just do as your mother told.
Tonight’s the night the sky turns bright with rascal jacket-spuds. So, look up and enjoy the pyrotechnics
So, look up and enjoy all of those spiralling
and, oo, as long riders of the hanged and queasy quarterers come razzling bad Guideo with gunpowdering lip
eyes will eternally insist on dancing on an elementary Guy-burned spire?