Well, here's my two-penn'orth. It's a celebration of the fine old English custom of burning Roman Catholics. Actually, letting of fireworks is actually breaking the law in the UK: it contravenes the Explosives Act; this is why the Americans and other foreigners were ahead of us in the Space Race even before the War ...

This goes to the tune of The Drummer and the Cook, or any of the other hundreds of songs that sound the same.

I sing a doleful Tragedy, Guy Fawkes the Prince of Sinisters,
Who once blew up the House of Lords, our King and all his ministers.
At least, he would have blown them up, and we should ne'er forget him,
His Will was good to do the Deed, if only they'd have let him!
Chorus: Tow-row-row, tol-de-rol-de-riddy, tol-de-rol, tol-de-ray.

Now Guy Fawkes left from Southwark side, wishing the State was undone,
And crossing over Vauxhall Bridge, that way comed into London.
At least, he would have come that way to perpetrate his Guilt, Sir,
Just one thing prevented him: that Bridge had not been built , Sir!

Now, creeping through those dreary Vaults with his portable Gas-light, Sir,
He thought to touch the fatal Train at the witching-hour of Night, Sir.
At least, he would have used the Gas, but in this was prevented:
For Gas, you see, in Guy Fawkes' time had not been invented!

And when they caught him in the Act so very close the Crown's end,
They straightway sent to Bow Street for that brave old Runner Townsend.
At least, they would have sent for him, for Fear he is no starter at,
But Townsend wasn't living then, 'cause he wasn't born till arter that!

God bless her Gracious Majesty, also her royal Son, Sir,
And may he never get blown up when to the Throne he come, Sir.
But if he does, why, then he will, so prophesies my Song, Sir;
And if he don't, why, then he won't, and still I shan't be wrong, Sir!