Forgotten, Never Be

Forgotten, Never Be

Stepping outside under the moon last night, hearing the fireworks, tasting the smoke in the air, in an atmosphere of chaos was as amazing as ever. Our bonfire night is very Samhain. Some don’t like it, and I get the contradictory ethics of a country full of bonfires and a care for the Earth.

To me bonfire night is about more than Guy Fawkes. In fact I wonder if it was ever just about that. I live near the county town of Lewes and last night this normally reserved middle-class town swelled in numbers by thousands as it held its annual bonfire night. It’s quite something as the video shows.

These living traditions are important. The Wassail, Morris dancing the dawn at Beltane, the Abbots Bromley horn Dance, the Bacup Coconut Men, the Mari Llwyd, there are strange traditions all over Albion, and this song celebrates them.


On a winter’s night,

Bathed in starlight,

We’ll sing our Wassail prayer,

Some toast and good beer,

Raised in good cheer,

To apple and to pear,

Our guns will inspire,

The fruit of desire,

And ale we will share,

Ale we will share.


And the snow is falling,

Her Cloak is laying all over the land.


On the 1st of May,

At the break of day,

Summer is born,

We’ll dance a Morris tune,

With the setting of the Moon,

And we will greet the dawn,

The Winter we dispel,

With the sound of Morris bell,

So pass the drinking horn,

Pass the drinking horn.


And the Sun is rising,

The Green Man growing all over the land.


As night it falls down,

On quiet county towns,

It’s hard to believe,

Torches they are raised,

And the bonfires blaze,

This November eve,

The Pope we defy,

As fire fills the sky.

The prayers they decree,

Forgotten, never be.


And the fires are burning,

And the sky is blazing all over the land.