Guy Fawkes, the catholic conspirator, was alarming me
When he appeared in front of us all,
England did not know, England was to know
All about him, sincerely tragic.
He emerged as a conspirator, coding his soul
With gunpowder, treason and plot.
No man from Spain would be so insincere
As Guy, the mad fault of a century,
A manner of a manner, it was madness always.
Hang him for the Fifth and the Fourth,
Hang his hands and feet and quarter him!
Like he was, like we know, in the head and heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem