The View from the Firehouse
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Monday, August 09, 2004Poems about firefighting
This frist poem isn't mine,
Presented to the International Association Fire Fighters by the Executive Board
"The Last Alarm"
Dedicated to the children of fire fighters who died in the line of duty...
My father was a fireman,
he drove a big red truck,
and when he'd go to work each night,
he'd say "Mother, wish me luck".
Then dad would not come home again,
till' sometime the next day,
but the thing that bothers me the most,
was the things some folks would say.
"A fireman's life is easy,
he eats and sleeps and plays,
and sometimes he dont fight a fire,
for days and days and days".
When I first heard these comments I was too young to understand,
cause I knew when people had trouble,
Dad was there to lend a hand.
Then my father went to work one day,
and he kissed us all good bye,
but little did we realize,
that night we all would cry.
My father gave his life that night,
when the floor gave away below,
and I wondered why he'd risk his life,
for someone he didnt know.
But I now realize the greatest gift a man can give,
is to lay his life upon the line,
so that someone else might live.
So as we go from day to day,
and we pray to God above,
say a prayer for your local firemen,
he may save the ones you love.
by, Jim Martinez
7th district Vice President
This one however is:
When the alarm sounds
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