T'was the Night Before Christmas by Deborah Robinson

'Twas the night before Christmas,
when all through the station,
not a creature was stirring
not even OLE Henry (who was on vacation).

Their boots were hung by the pole with care,
In hopes that St. Early would soon be there.
The firefighters were nestled all in their beds,
with hope of no calls danced in their heads.

And Cap in his suspenders and us in our briefs
had just settle down to one nights relief.
When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
Cap sprang from his bunk to see what was the matter.

Away to the bay doors Chet flew like the wind
only to fall in the garbage bin.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
gave the luster of midday to objects below.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature squad with eight firefighters so near.
With a little old driver, so lively and burly,
I knew in a moment if must be St. Early.

More rapid than sparks, his coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
Now pidge, now cassie, now kj, oh how nice.
On brackett and Vince and Morton and even Brice.

To the top of the engine! To the top of the station!
Hose away! Hose away! Hose away flames!
As dry leaves burn and the winds that carry the sparks
they flew to the roof so the squad they could park.

And in a twinkling I heard that familiar sound.
The shouting and calling the hole had been found.
As I drew Chet from the garbage bin I turned around
and down the pole he came with a bound,
that even OLE henry made a sound.

He was dressed in a lab coat from his head to his foot.
And his clothes were all tarnished from the ashes and soot.
A bundle of gadgets he flung on his back
and he looked like a paramedic opening his pack.

His eyes how they twinkled and his dimples so merry.
I knew than and there I had drank to much sherry.
And then in a twinkling I heard such a roar and I
turned and saw Johnny running for the door.

He spoke not a word as he went to work
putting the fire out in our kitchen nook.
He filled our boots with gizmos and gadgets,
as his firefighters paraded like in a pageant.

Laying his fingers on his pulse in his neck
he flew up that old pole that was in the rec.
He sprang to the squad to his team his did whistle,
and they flew away like a down on a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight.
Hose away! Hose away! Flames though the night.

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