By B.L.Cann

Remember, remember, the fifth of November,
And what all the noise is about,
A geezer named Guy Fawkes , and his gunpowder plot,
Not a politician, no doubt.

There were many like he, his ideals they agreed,
Were as simple and honest could be,
So they all got together and reasoned the deed,
How much powder was needed by he?

Now it transpires people have just put to the test,
A structure made in similar guise,
With the latest in measuring equipment to help,
And the results astounded their eyes.

If Guy Fawkes had succeeded in his little plan,
There'd be parliament buildings no more,
For the walls were reduced to a crumbling mass,
No-one knows what happened to the floor.

It turns out that the bang was most mighty indeed,
Bits and pieces they rained all around,
Only one third was needed to finish the job,
So Sir Guy Fawkes' theory was quite sound.

So think of this poem, amid fizzles and pops,
When out in the cold and the rain,
That history has this un-nerving habit,
Of repeating itself now and again.