A Penny for the Guy

John’s old trousers, Dad’s old shirt,

Socks with holes, shoes scuffed with dirt.

Stuffed with paper - the daily rag,

And for his head a paper bag.

Draw a face with a thousand mile stare,

Braid some wool to make his hair,

All topped off by a hat with a bobble

and a scarf round his neck so his head won’t wobble.

Then its off to the shops in an old wheelbarrow,

Take turns to push, down streets all narrow.

Set up on the corner with a camping chair

A penny for the guy please - can you spare?

Shiver in the cold for hours on end

Until our tin's full with pennies to spend

On Catherine wheels, bangers and rockets.

With reminders from grown-ups - not to keep in our pockets.

By November the fifth, Guy’s all but done.

He has one last job that’s not much fun,

To sit on top of the big wood pile

He’s pride of place but does not smile.

Meanwhile friends and family meet

Bring tatties in tinfoil, chestnuts and treats,

To roast on the fire and watch Guy burn

And light the fireworks his pennies earned.

At the end of the night the bonfires done,

The fireworks are spent, so we all go home.

There’s nothing left of poor old Guy,

Just ash and memories drifting in the sky.