On a November night when it's dark and it's cold
And the wind whistles right down your dress
Where would you rather be given the choice?
No don't tell me - no just let me guess

Curled up by the fire with a nice glass of wine
Watching telly while you have a meal
And if somebody said to you just come outside
You’d reply “ In this weather? Get real!”

But tonight you'll be there munching on a Hot Dog
Or with both hands clutched round a hot cup
'Cause some bloke called Guy Fawkes in 1605
Didn’t blow Parliament up

Now if he'd got it right and he'd done a good job
That would be fair enough I suppose
But he didn't I fear and still we stand here
While an icicle drips off our nose

We stand just as close to the fire as we can
And we breathe so much smoke that we're wheezing
Our faces are mottled and smutty with ash
While our feet remain just above freezing

And we gaze at the sky while the fireworks cascade
Exclaiming - "Oh look it's so pretty"
Then a rocket goes stray and a greenhouse explodes
That belongs to next door - mores the pity

So to all of you revelers on bonfire night
Who’ll be waving your sparklers with glee
If you see an old banger that's crept back in doors
To top up on brandy - that's me

Now the fire is burning as bright as can be
And the hedge has caught light I'm afraid
So I'll put on some lipstick and smooth down my frock
And look good for the Fire Brigade