United as one in a common bond.
The bond of serving, each in their own way,
The needs that arise, be what they may.
The reheated meals, the unsipped drinks,
Are a common occurence, more than you think.
Its mostly routine and done without flair,
The men return, their ladies are there.
But then comes a call, the tough one to fight,
A working fire that may last through the night.
The ladies agian wait, but this time they know.
That sooner or later, they too will go.
As they wait for the signal, the time draws near.
For that sooner or later to be suddenly here.
The men are all weary, some of them spent,
The refreshments that arrive are like heaven sent.
The auxiliary, in fact, is more that a name,
Its dedicated arm of the volunteer game.
So god we pray, for the firemen's care,
Include the ladies, who were also there.
Author: Laurie Allen