Traditions
Have you ever been called Probee?
Or Rookie? They're both the same.
Or bragged of being a fireman,
your only claim to fame.
Ever returned 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 traditions;
like saying Grace at noon;
a fire parade in October-
in the light of a harvest moon;
Visiting children at schools-
our chest 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 memories burning,
of loved ones trapped inside.
You pray you are successful
in easing someone's pain.
But often things are lost,
you never can regain.
When a fireman's duty
calls him from the life,
and the flag that drapped his casket,
is presented to his wife;
And when the bell is sounded,
five by five by 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.
