Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, guy, t’was his intent To blow up the king and the parliament. Three score barrels of powder below Poor old England to overthrow; By God’s providence he was catch’d he was catch’d With a dark lantern and burning match.
So, holler boys, holler boys, Let the bells ring. Holler boys, holler boys, God save the king.
A penny loaf to feed the Pope, A farthing o’cheese to chocke in, A pint of beer to rinse it down A faggot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar, Burn him like a blazing star, Burn his body from his head, Then we’ll say old Pope is dead!
And what shall we do with him? BURN HIM!
It’s finally here. My favourite night of the year. Bonfire Night!