Ever return from a run at midnight, tired and wet and cold, knowing it's time to clean the trucks; a tradition from days of old. our world is full of traitions; like saying Grace at noon; a fire parade in October- in light of a harvest moon; Visiting children at schools- our chests pushed out with pride; letting them blow the siren or even take a ride. But this job's not all glory. There's a dark and gloomy side: of homes and memoried burning, of loved ones trapped inside. You pray you are succesful in easing someone's pain. But often things are lost, you can never regain. When a fireman's duty calls him from this life, and the flag that drapped his casket, is presented to his wife; And when the bell is sounded, five by five bye five, and God's taken another hero's name, out of the book of life; Just remember, it's tradition! From day one you can depend, that Comrades, Friends and Brothers stand with you to the end. Fire Chief G.A. Edwards 111
|