For those poor souls
That are here to watch,
Vigilance rewarded
Please don’t botch.
Time passes slowly
And sometimes quick,
Reading, searching
Does the trick.
For tell tail signs
Of strife about,
Watching for fires
Set by a lout.
Or lighting strikes
That, thunders lament,
To make you aware
Your times well spent.
The call on the hour
Comes through clear,
Wanting a report
That Bathurst holds dear.
Wind and weather
It’s no joke,
Bathurst, Bathurst
I’ve got SMOKE! ! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem