 | A merry-go-round of song |  |
136
THE FEAST OF FAWKES
It was the popping Feast of Fawkes,
When guys are carried round,
And squibs explode along the road,
And nimble crackers leap and bound
In madness on the ground.
When guys are carried round,
And squibs explode along the road,
And nimble crackers leap and bound
In madness on the ground.
It was the powdery Feast of Fawkes,
When children lose their heads,
And rockets try to singe the sky,
But fall in sticks upon the leads,
The pigsties or the sheds.
When children lose their heads,
And rockets try to singe the sky,
But fall in sticks upon the leads,
The pigsties or the sheds.
As I was thinking in my room,
I heard a little tap,
And knew at once a darling dunce
Was ready in his fisher-cap
And mother-woven wrap.
I heard a little tap,
And knew at once a darling dunce
Was ready in his fisher-cap
And mother-woven wrap.
So Peterkin and Birdiesweet,
With hair of palest gold,
And Auntie Nell and Cousin Bell
Went down to dare November cold
And sticky garden-mould.
With hair of palest gold,
And Auntie Nell and Cousin Bell
Went down to dare November cold
And sticky garden-mould.
We had a giant Catherine Wheel,
As large as Peter's hoop,
And Demon's Tears (producing cheers!)
And something like a fiery scoop
Whiz-whizzing in a loop!
As large as Peter's hoop,
And Demon's Tears (producing cheers!)
And something like a fiery scoop
Whiz-whizzing in a loop!
137
We aimed a rocket in the air
To scorch the Milky Way!
We danced around the bonfire's bound,
With many a hip-hip-hip-hurray,
Like savages at play.
To scorch the Milky Way!
We danced around the bonfire's bound,
With many a hip-hip-hip-hurray,
Like savages at play.
Although I think the Moon was vexed
To see us at our prank,
We did not stop till with a flop
Our tiny neighbour, freckled Frank,
Fell headlong in a tank!
To see us at our prank,
We did not stop till with a flop
Our tiny neighbour, freckled Frank,
Fell headlong in a tank!
And very, very late at night
To Peter's room I sped;
For how he screamed because he dreamed
That Roman Candles in the bed
Were shooting at his head!
To Peter's room I sped;
For how he screamed because he dreamed
That Roman Candles in the bed
Were shooting at his head!
Though suddenly the Feast of Fawkes
Was clouded by distress,
Dear Cousin Bell and Auntie Nell
Behaved like angels! How I bless
Their clever tenderness!
Was clouded by distress,
Dear Cousin Bell and Auntie Nell
Behaved like angels! How I bless
Their clever tenderness!
| A merry-go-round of song | |