Here I sit upon the wall,
My shape is varied, my colours too,
Gold and black and red and blue,
Clasped hands, a Sun, a Phoeniix rising,
The variations were quite surprising.
I hear a drum, I hear a bell,
The buildings on fire, it looks like hell,
Here comes the Company Fire Brigade,
If its not their Mark, will they lend their aid?
For rivalry is very keen,
When the Company Brigades they reach the scene,
Its not our Mark youll hear them cry,
To put out the fire they will not try.
Theyll stand and jeer and make some fun,
When that Companys Brigades arrives at the run,
With leather helmets and coats of blue,
A new hand pump with a twelve man crew.
But these conditions could not last,
The time for rivalry was past,
So they all joined up, they had it made,
They formed the local Fire Brigade.
My time has come, no need to enquire,
Is this building insured for fire?
The local Brigade has come to stay,
To fight all fires without delay,
So I can retire and leave the wall,
To take my place in a famous hall,
In the museum, in the park,
I was a British Fire Mark.
by J.F.A. Brown (Glasgow Salvage Corps)
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