All over our country in communities and towns
Big Red and Yellow trucks are setting around.
Each truck has a number painted on its side;
it fills each of its members with a great deal of pride.
There's a closeness with members that's hard to explain
it's a brotherhood of "Dancers with Flames".
You fight the fires you smell of smoke
you're bone tired your clothes are soaked.
You do the job the best you can
It's for your neighbors and your fellow man.
Now it's not easy being a fireman's wife
knowing with each call your husband may risk his life.
You try not to worry the feeling you fight
until he returns and you know he's alright.
The alarm goes off thereís a wreck down the road,
you look in the car itís a kid you know.
Mobile home on fire itís all in flames
there stands a family in the freezing rain.
Summer air is hot and dry Lightning strikes down from the sky
Woods on fire Trucks must roll
People counting on you to get it under control.
You volunteer your energy and your time
but I don't think much about you until the house fire
or accident is MINE!
Then comes a day and you answered a call
that some of your members never came back from at all.
They may have laid their life down and you risk yours too.
For someone they never knew But, you're firemen
and that's what firemen do.
And when your life is over May God take you by the hand,
He'll have a new job for you, cause Heaven won't be needing a