Overshadowed by US show,
Slowly waning yet you know…
Remembered in my child’s eye,
The homemade doll, the painted guy,
The wheelbarrows in which he dwelt,
The schoolboy hands in search of gelt.
All running to the shop to buy
The fireworks gleaned from crafted guys.
Pennies gleaming in the bowl,
Rockets wedged within a hole.
Bonfires burning, guy discarded,
To the flames he’s now departed.
Till again small hands will forge,
An image of old England’s gorge.
(November 5th is Guy Fawkes Night in England. For my non English readers it remembers a failed plot to blow up the houses of parliament in which children made images of Guy Fawkes (the ring leader) and paraded around with them prior to Nov. 5th. collecting money for their efforts, used to buy fireworks. The guys would then be ceremonially burnt on a communal or backyard bonfire to the accompaniment of fireworks, mimicking the hidden barrels of gun powder exploding.)