It's Just Our Job

Have you ever been called a Probee, or Rookie? They're both the same.
Or bragged about being a fireman, your only claim to fame.
Ever returned from a call 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 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 love 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 his life
And the flag that draped 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, its tradition! From day one you can depend,
that Comrades, Friends and Brothers, Will Stand with you to the end.
It's just our job and we are proud till the end.

 By: Michele Herzog