The Captain And His Son
I once met a man, who was wearing red suspenders,
He was driving a big truck, with shiny red fenders,
He was sporting a pot belly, and a day old beard,
He was a hulk of a man, with a grin to be feared.
I just now met the son, of the man with the grin,
He was wearing a badge, made out of tin,
He was lithe; he was spry, and wore a warm smile,
He was full of good humor, eyes glistening with wile.
The son and his dad, were having a beer,
They invited me to sit, and give them a hear,
Of the tale they had to share, of what they had won,
That day before their job was all done.
The inferno had raged, the situation was dire,
The house was alive, with the red of the fire,
The devil was laughing, because he had in his grip,
The soul of a child, and a heart to evilly rip,
From the breast of the mother, who writhed in her fear,
Because she knew that her child’s end was so near.
But the devil didn’t count on the man with the grin,
Nor, did he consider, the badge made from tin,
Or the truck that was red, or the men that it brought,
That was his folly, for he really should have thought,
That men with grins, that other men fear,
Will douse the red devil, and brag over beer,
And men with badges, made out of tin,
Will stop at nothing, to prevent the sin
Of losing a child, and the mothers loving soul,
To an evil devil, who belongs in a deep hole.
They had beaten the devil, and his evil way,
They had faced the fear, they had saved the day,
They had won the battle, so others had said,
The fire was out, the devil was dead,
Their duty was done, their reports were all made,
By the Captain and his son, of the Fire Brigade.