CmPS+Firefighters

=Here are some poems that we have made up (the first 2), some information about the fire service and some poems that we have found about being a firefighter.=

=Fire-Fighter Volunteers=

Is to become a fire-fighter volunteer.
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Over sixteen’s only!!!!!!!
Background information about the fire service in general NZ Kaitaia The fire service has not had a big previous problem with employees in fact they used to be packed with emplyees but the fire service is losing employees and those that are left are growing old.

The fireservice in and around kaitaia:

//**TO BE A FIREMAN**// I HAVE NO AMBITION IN THIS WORLD BUT ONE, AND THAT IS TO BE A FIREMAN. THE POSITION MAY, IN THE EYES OF SOME, APPEAR TO BE A LOWLY ONE; BUT THOSE WHO KNOW THE WORK WHICH A FIREMAN HAS TO DO BELIEVE HIS IS A NOBLE CALLING. OUR PROUDEST MOMENT IS TO SAVE... LIVES. UNDER THE IMPULSE OF SUCH THOUGHTS THE NOBILITY OF THE OCCUPATION THRILLS US AND STIMULATES US TO DEEDS OF DARING, EVEN OF SUPREME SACRIFICE.

//What Is A Fireman ?//

He has never gotten over the excitement of engines and sirens and danger. He's a guy like you and me with warts and worries and unfulfilled dreams. Yet he stands taller than most of us. He's a fireman. He puts it all on the line when the bell rings. A fireman is at once the most fortunate and the least fortunate of men. He's a man who saves lives because he has seen too much death. He's a gentle man because he has seen the awesome power of violence out of control. He's responsive to a child's laughter because his arms have held too many small bodies that will never laugh again. He's a man who appreciates the simple pleasures of life - hot coffee held in numb, unbending fingers - a warm bed for bone and muscle compelled beyond feeling - the camaraderie of brave men - the divine peace and selfless service of a job well done in the name of all men. He doesn't wear buttons or wave flags or shout obscenities. When he marches, it is to honor a fallen comrade. He doesn't preach the brotherhood of man. He lives it.**
 * He's the guy next door - a man's man with the memory of a little boy.

Fire poem... The cold night air slaps me in the face As I head toward my car And I think to myself, Why am I doing this I probably don't know who they are.

But my adrenalin is flowing God gives me the strength that I need. No matter whose house it may be I know I must succeed.

Engine One has responded, Tanker One is near. I hope no one is in the house As I put on my breathing gear.

The fire blazes around us As we crawl along the floor. We hear muffled choking cries From behind a bedroom door. We enter the room and find a boy About the age of mine Thank God that we have reached him Barely, just in time.

And when the fire is over And the damage has been done, I return home tired but thankful That I can still hug my wife and son.