Remember me when I am gone away,Gone far away into the silent land;When you can no more hold me by the hand,Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.Remember me when no more day by dayYou tell me of . Another day has come again,As time moved surely on But nothing now seems quite the same,To know that he is gone.The days and weeks and months aheadWill never be the same Because a treasure beyond wordsCan never be replaced. Its grand to be reunitedWith band members both old and newWe start to play it sounds so goodJust perfect like I expected it would. Which organisations allow you to scatter? An old man going a long highwayCame in the evening cold and grayTo a chasm vast and deep and wide.The old man crossed in the twilight dim,The sullen stream had no fears for him,But he stopped when safe on the other sideAnd built a bridge to span the tide. The four-inch beam has filled the best with fear.They leap and land, then totter and some fall.The lines around the floor seem oft so near,That tiny step outside can lose it all. You are the picture I paint in my headOf beauty that only exists in thought.You are the picture I dream of in bed.Of beauty that I have forever thought. And to those not with us or by our side, May God be your partner on your final ride. Were not saying that you were mean,But your wallet, seldom seen,Youd complain and mutter on,And yet were sad that you are gone. I watch the magic happeningAs yarn becomes a shawl.The knitting needles of my auntAre at her beck and call. If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door,Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees,Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,He was one who had an eye for such mysteries? Im sorry, friends, that I cant be with you here today.If youre gathered reading this, it means Ive passed away.But if I were there, Id tell you not to shed a tear or frown.Id tell you just to simply say, Another Biker has gone down.. Cricket is played by two teams of eleven players and two umpires. Theatre of Dreams John Read A short verse lamenting the end of a wonderful act of living.Youll Never Walk Alone Rodgers and Hammerstein The well-known song can work just as well as spoken word. Where the Oriole swellsHis throat as he tellsOf his flight through ethereal spaceAnd his music flowsWhile the earths reposeIs deeper because of his grace. He never looks for praisesHes never one to boastHe just goes on quietly workingFor those he loves the most.His dreams are seldom spokenHis wants are very fewAnd most of the time his worriesWill go unspoken too.Hes there A firm foundationThrough all our storms of lifeA sturdy hand to hold toIn times of stress and strife.A true friend we can turn toWhen times are good or badOne of our greatest blessings,The man that we call Dad. You ran with grace and strength all game,Your footwork swift and sure,Scored goals with ease and utmost grace,Brought joy to all who saw. Sadly he has passed away and I'd like to include an evocative piece, perhaps something describing a match or an aspect of the game, that I could read at his funeral. Poems for someone who had a full and successful life. Ive seen her use that apronTo wipe her dripping browAs she laboured over the big rangeThats just an antique now. The stark white ring-barked forests, all tragic to the moon,The sapphire-misted mountains, the hot gold hush of noon,Green tangle of the brushes where lithe lianas coil,And orchids deck the tree-tops, and ferns the warm dark soil. Like life. The time has come when time is no moreand all thats left was once before. She puts it to her lips with ease,just hurting deep inside.Tried to hide the pain away,to get that one last high.She sees the lights over head,one by one they pass,going down an empty hall,theyre trying to save her fast.She hears them say, oh no, weve failed,weve lost another one.This addiction took another soul,it started out with fun.Now her friends and family sit above her flower covered grave.She floats above and cries to herself,all I did was crave.Now theres a hand reaching for me.Its time to say goodbye.This disease just got one more.Promise me, dont cry. Bartenders Prayer anon A lovely little poem about the wishes of a bartender every evening before the bar opens.The Last Barman Poet Tom Cruise The poem from the 1988 film Cocktail.My Shift Is Over Mark Gregory A poem about the varied role that a bartender takes on while entertaining his punters. the Scrabble Kinghas arrived once moreto pound awayat the competition. ThanksDad, for teaching us to be strong,ThanksDad, for showing us whats right and wrong.ThanksDad, for giving us enough love and shelter,ThanksDad, for sharing with us our tears and laughter.ThanksDad, for teaching us to stand on our own,ThanksDad, for all the love and care you have shown.ThanksDad, for giving us support and inspiration,ThanksDad, for guiding us in our decision-making.ThanksDad, for being responsible, kind, and hardworking,ThanksDad, for lending us your time when were concentrating.ThanksDad, for loving us from deep inside your heart,ThanksDad, for hoping to be with us when we were apart.ThanksDad, for showing us how a realDadshould be,ThanksDad, for always caring for mum, my brother, and me.What more can we ask from a great father like you,For special fathers like you are so far between and few.ThanksDad, for showing us unconditional caring and love,We hope,Dad, that you can read and hear this from above. It's a powerful memorial poem to celebrate someone who knew they were dying and lived life to its fullest up until their last breath. Rejoice now in the knowledgeReturned to you this dayYouve always had the powerTo simply fly away. I Juggle As I Go Mark Gregory A poem that mimics the rhythmic repetition of juggling, and, indeed, of life.The Juggler Richard Wilbur A poem that uses a juggler as ametaphorfor the kind of change one needs in life. When someone dies, the clothes are so sad. Always Been A Reader Mark Gregory A poem about the qualities of books and how they will endure after death.The Last Book Mark Gregory A poem about the miracle of life and being a part of it, even just for a while.The Library Mark Gregory A lovely poem about the magic of libraries, perfect for someone who worked in them.Roads Go Ever On J. R. R. Tolkien The classic from Tolkiens Lord of the Rings, perfect for a book-lover.Sitting In An Armchair Mark Gregory A book about a female reader in a chair being transported off to another land.There Is No Frigate Like A Book Emily Dickinson A short poem about how books carry us away to lands unknown. Guest. Until we lose. A ball point pen just wouldnt do That really is the case For I would be at quite a loss If I could not erase! Here are the opening lines of 10 beautiful poems for funerals. I may not even be who you think I am,or even who you want me to be.You wish for me to be more like you,Why cant you be more like me? Poems for those who enjoyed the challenges of rock climbing, hiking, and fell-walking. Click on the title to continue reading, or browse a larger collection of funeral verses, including non-religious funeral poems and short verses. We trust that beyond absence there is a presence.That beyond the pain there can be healing.That beyond the brokenness there can be wholeness.That beyond the anger there may be peace.That beyond the hurting there may be forgiveness.That beyond the silence there may be the word.That beyond the word there may be understanding.That through understanding there is love. Let the beer flow steadily and the wine pour right,Make the cider fizz lightly and the cocktails look bright,May the bar remain clean and the floor vomit-free,And please, let there be no trouble for me. Addiction Took Another Soul Natasha Henry A sombre poem reflecting on the harm that addiction can cause.Its Me Jacqueline A. Grieve A poem read on behalf of deceased addict, which asks their loved ones for forgiveness.My Son Marie Antoinette A poem written for a mother as a message to her son, who lost the fight against addiction.Pray, Dont Find Fault Rama Muthukrishnan A poem urging people not to judge those who go through hard times. But you think I am goneYou dont see me, but I can see youWhatever the problems, I will help you get through. When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease - Wikipedia And standing thereTill that calm song is done, at last well shareThe league-spread, quiring symphonies that areJoy in the world, and peace, and dawns one star. Pray dont find fault with the man who limpsor stumbles along the road,unless you have worn the shoes he wearsor struggled beneath his load.There may be tacks in his shoes that hurt,though hidden away from view,or the burden he bears, placed on your backmight cause you to stumble too.Dont sneer at the man whos down todayunless you have felt the blowthat caused his fall or felt the shamethat only the fallen know.You may be strong, but still the blowsthat were his if dealt to you,in the selfsame way, at the selfsame time,might cause you to stagger too.Dont be too harsh with the man who sinsor pelt him with word or stone,unless you are sure, yea, doubly sure,that you have no sins of your ownfor you know perhaps if the tempters voiceshould whisper as softly to youas it did to him when he went astray,it might cause you to stumble too. It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though my own red roses there may blow; It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though the red roses crest the caps, I know. Words have that kind of poweryou remind the clothes that remain in the drawer, arms stubbornlyfolded across the chest, or slung across the backs of chairs. The wind whispers secrets to meAs I paddle under the open skyAnd the beauty of nature, I can seeIn the sunsets and the birds that fly. You left withoutWarning.Gone so fast.Now all we haveAre memoriesOf our past. The draping, it is perfectNo wrinkles will you seeA symbol of a nationA reminder that were free. Oh dear, if youre reading this right now,I must have given up the ghost.I hope you can forgive me for beingSuch a stiff and unwelcoming host. We dance and we dance,each day through.Everyday to a different tune,just to get us through. Core of my heart, my country! When I come to the end of my journeyand I travel my last weary mile,just forget, if you can, that I ever frownedand remember only the smile.Forget unkind words I have spoken;remember some good I have done.Forget that I ever had heartache,And remember Ive had loads of fun.Forget that Ive stumbled and blunderedand sometimes fell by the way.Remember I have fought some hard battlesand won, ere the close of the day.Then forget to grieve for my going;I would not have you sad for a day,but in summer just gather some flowersand remember the place where I lay,and come in the shade of the eveningwhen the sun paints the sky in the west.Stand for a few moments beside meand remember only my best. Poems reflecting a passion and love for cricket. A life well lived is a precious giftOf hope and strength and grace,From someone who has made our worldA brighter, better placeIts filled with moments, sweet and sadWith smiles and sometimes tears,With friendships formed and good times sharedAnd laughter through the years.A life well lived is a legacyOf joy and pride and pleasure,A living, lasting memoryOur grateful hearts will treasure. We never had the chance to play,To laugh, to rock, to wiggle.We long to hold you, touch you nowAnd listen to you giggle. I cant be there to hold your handI cant be there to hug youI cant be there to dry a tearBut there is one thing I can do. And Rest Rev. You are a breath of fresh air on a hot summers night.When there is darkness, you turn on the light. We think about the fleeting yearsToo quickly, gone for goodIt seems like only yesterday;We would go back if we could. I Hold The Heights Geoffrey Winthrop Young An abridged version of the original which basks in the glory of hiking.Im Climbing A Mountain Andrew Blakemore An uplifting poem about the sights and sounds of a climb.So Well Go No More A-Climbing anon An adaptation of Lord Byrons original; a lament to a climbing partner. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He firmly held his bowl in handHis eyes they were unblinking;None could tell what he had plannedOr just what he was thinking.Then slowly down his body wentHis bowl arm was at the readyTo neither side his torso leantHe was so sure and steady. These our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits andAre melted into air, into thin air:And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,The cloud-cappd towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolveAnd, like this insubstantial pageant faded,Leave not a rack behind. Roy Harpers When an old Cricketer leaves the crease has been mentioned. Eternal rocks will form my tomb,Sand my quilt shall be,Protecting from shipwreck and raging storms,And Ill become one with the sea. Stretching my limbsChoreographing on a whimAlways aiming to be strongerTo hold my arabesque longer. The empty spots beckon; They yearn to be filled And if Im successful Im quietly thrilled. I stand Oh Lord With hand on heartAnd ask you now to do your partIve sent my wood from centre lineI know the green I choose is fineNow let your word be trueOh hear me, as I prayScatter thou mine enemiesMake a path where there is no wayGuiding on a righteous track,Place it Lord upon the JackAmen. Mother wore an ample apronTo cover her clean dress.Shed tell you thats what it was forIf you asked her, I would guess. The board is your target, not the mat,So, be careful what youre aiming at! Having this knowledge makes the fire fighters,our heroesof the past, present and future. Block A poem about what a hard-working sailor will do once his working life is over.Sea Fever John Masefield A touching poem asking for a quiet sleep and a sweet dream at the end of life.Some Time At Eve Elizabeth Clark Hardy A lovely verse about passing away quietly and without fuss.The Voyage Christie Moore A poem about a couple navigating life together, and with friends.When The Last Hand Comes Aboard Richard John Scarr A religious poem about completing a ships crew. Poems for those who either acted in films or shared a passion for movies unlike any other. Crystals form almost uniformwhere many cave creatures are bornflowing walls made of stonebeautiful formations have grown. Someday when Im all grown up,Youre what I want to be.Then I will have a little childWholl want to follow me. Himself against himself, he ever setsHis knights, pawns, castles in a proud array;His soul the stake he on the issue bets Too great a prize to risk in thoughtless play. The loss cannot be measured now, The void cannot be filled And though someday the grief made fade,His mark will live on still.For even with my heavy heart,I know that Ive been blessedTo have been one whos life he touchedWith warmth so infinite. Her expertise is such thatI just really cant compare it,But best of all is when shes done,Then I will get to wear it! A football team is only as good as its last game; the mood of supporters rises and falls with each result. He strived so hard from day to dayAnd never oft complained,With steady hands he worked so hardAnd kept the family name, Dad dwells amongst the angels now;He left us much too soon.He is now with mum, his wife again;From pain he is immune. You know Ill always ride hereeven when my ridings doneIn the whisper of the pre-dawnor the final burst of sunAt the corners of transitionwhere the changes are obscuredI will ride and if you see meits because our love has endured. Iron horses, hundreds strong,Come thundring through the gate;Sleeping souls on notice, fallenBiker nears his fate. Now you will not swell the routOf lads that wore their honours out,Runners whom renown outranAnd the name died before the man. Sometimes Jacks come out to play,theyre a joyful bunch and kind.It happens they overrule the Kings,but isnt it true that love is blind? It was the way he moved that made him seemSo much a part of what he did;In every somersault and cartwheelHe seemed to turn himself to air. Poems about trains, perfect for those who loved everything locomotive. To lose ones wealth is sad indeed,To lose ones health is more,To lose ones soul is such a lossThat no man can restore. John Betjeman began his poem about Cheltenham with the following memory: I composed these lines as a summer wind Was blowing the elm leaves dry And we had seventy six for seven And they had CB Fry. As you learned lifes messagesNo matter how hardThe laughter and love always shone through. No grand schemes,They passed me by.I knew the brook,The hills, the sky. The warm crowd faintly clapped, We will all miss your fashion and grace,But our memory of you will never be erased.Rest in peace, our dear lover of fashionForever will live your legacy and passion. Well, it isn't. For you were one of lifes true best,A little mean, but oh the rest,Your heart bigger than all weve known,A personality of your own. I can talk as we rollAnd I know that a soulMust lurk in thy wonderful frameA spiritual essenceSome far hidden presenceSome genius of magical fame. We pushed them and we shoved them, Tolerated, and loved them, Glad we had them, at times we dont know why, Pray they do stay out of strife, Make the best of their sweet life, Cant bear the thought that one day they may die. People emerge from winter to hear them ring,children glitter with mischief and the blind man hearsbells in the town alight with spring.Even he on his eyes feels the caressingfinger of Persephone, and her voice escaped from tearsmake clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing. Watch it sink into the hairthe chiseled point will disappearanother sip of ale to bootgame set matchthe point is moot. Your love of Gods soil has passed on to your kin; the stories flow like fine wine,Wash off your work boots in the puddle left by blessed rain one final time. I will go forward with my head up high.It might be hard, I cannot lie. And the bar stayed open all day. When great trees fall,rocks on distant hills shudder,lions hunker downin tall grasses,and even elephantslumber after safety. So rest now my beautiful Nanna,Ill never forget how much you have done.So until my hand meets yours again,Sleep now in the sun. To succeed. Were many in number but we ride as one, With the pavement beneath us and our face in the sun.With the wind at our backs and our gear all on, We ride in remembrance of those who have passed on. I will always remember you, brother of mine.In my heart I will keep you, so I will be fine. Sometimes we do the rumba,a foxtrot or a jive,as we dance through our life,each and every day. Our England is a garden that is full of stately views,Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye. Bird Watching Amy Ludwig Vanderwater A poem highlighting the joys and excitement of bird watching.Fly Celine Dion Words originally sung that reveal the sorrow yet relief of setting someone free from this Earth. In life, they loved their family, With a love that knew no bounds, Their heart was filled with joy and pride, When their loved ones were around. Based on real world data - you can't go wrong with these poems. But a bird that stalksdown his narrow cagecan seldom see throughhis bars of ragehis wings are clipped andhis feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing. The sounds of all your heartbeatsAre my sweetest melodyAnd at all my heavenly bedtimeThe angels play it back to me. Good Afternoon, My father has recently passed and I would like to scatter his ashes at Lords.He was a lover of attending Lords and had many happy days there. For the field is full of shades as I near the shadowy coast, And a ghostly batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost, And I look through my tears . Dear Lovely Death - Langston Hughes. My hands are clenched around chrome barsthe engines rumble sounds so sweet.I twist the throttle with my palmand roar off down the street. Crossword Blindness anon A poem about the struggles of figuring out that one clue that has you stumped.My Pencil Is Ready Ilene Bauer A poem about the joys of puzzling, written for National Crossword Puzzle Day.My Trusty Pencil Ilene Bauer Another poem by Bauer about the necessities of a pencil while doing crosswords. He cannot help but have death on his mind. The bird that was trapped has flownThe sky that was grey is blueThe bone that was dead has grownThe dream that was dreamed is true, The door that was locked has swung wideThe prisoner has been set freeThe lips that were sealed have criedThe eye that was blind can see, The tree that was bare is greenThe room that was dull is brightThe sheet that was soiled is cleanThe dawn that was dark is light, The road that was blocked has no endThe unknown journey is knownThe heart that is hurt will mendThe bird that was trapped has flown. I am never without it (anywhere. You see, there is a shadow wherethere didnt used to be,and sometimes when I look right thereit just confuses me. Knit one, purl one, knit two togetherHer woollen creations will last forever.The sound of her needles, clickety clack,Another row on the counter, turn and go back. To shake our gravity up. Farewell to Middle-earth at last.I see the Star above my mast! Similar . For they existed. But in my heart you will be,moving forward, you with me. You are loved by so many.You might notHave known,But in our heartsIs whereYou have grown. Tossed to and fro in a raging tide of emotion;without you, Im just so lost and broken. Your love for coffee was a passion,A way to start each day anew.It gave you strength and courage,To do the things you had to do. How did you find the energy, MumTo do all the things you did,To be teacher, nurse and counsellorTo me, when I was a kid? Its all about expectingAnd then throwing inIts all about the winningBut not whining not giving-inThe square, the short and long ballThe pals, solid as a rockThe unexpected tackleSudden shock, You felt the roarAnd saw the lucky chipThe crossbar stopped the goalThat you were willing in, And in the endAt injury timeWhen you went deep and deeperYou didnt find the goalOr spot the sweeper. These will be suitable for memorial services as well as funeral readings. The place where we share our secrets,and it always just makes sense,Where my soul can be wide open,true and free without defence,Split by a generation,simply makes us both so nearer,To words so true from both,whether youre the speaker or the hearer. I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.To the gulls way and the whales way where the winds like whetted knife:And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long tricks over. The Travelers Rest always welcomes departeddrinkersWith a warm smile and a kindly nodYoull never have to put your hand in your pocket againBecause this really is a free house, thank God. Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Little rattle of dry seeds in pods, Poems for those who always sought the bullseye, or that magical score of one hundred and eighty! F amily man, first and foremost. O you are not lying in the wet clay,For it is harvest evening now and weAre piling up the ricks against the moonlightAnd you smile up at us eternally. Coast to coast across England in one day;A hundred miles in one trip. Alzheimers Dick Underwood A touching poem about how Alzheimers often takes away the mind before the body.I Am At Peace Jennifer Alderton A short verse accepting the peace and freedom that comes with death after illness.The Long Goodbye Ellen Miller A verse reminding us that the person we have lost was not defined by their disease.Those Hands That Once Held Mine Dean Harrison A beautiful verse for a son about his mother and her Alzheimers.Two Mothers Remembered Joann Snow Duncanson Remembering a mother who changed due to illness. Monopolyseemed like a treacherous merry-go-round.He wanted to charge no rent,disperse property equally(having been taught to share),end the game, and go drinkhot cocoa unaware a monopolycontrolled the cocoa market. The photograph above was unearthed from the countless images to be found on the web. Not having a good fielder is bad luck. I hold onto memories of you And cherish them with love God took you from this world So, you could be with Him in Heaven I lost you too soon But I will never forget you. Grandmas quilts were always there,A comforting, colourful sight,A source of warmth and motherly love,On cold and lonely nights. Life is fleeting,And now, like those tendrils of steam,I, too, must rise, and float awayTo some distant, better place. Ruth E. Renkl. I pray that if a batsmanLoops a ball into my lap,Ill pouch it without too much fuss,And get a well-earned clap. Do not standatmy grave and weep,I am not there, I do not sleep.I amathousand winds that blow;I am the diamond glintson thesnow.I am the sunlight on ripened grain;I am the gentleautumnsrain.Whenyouawaken in themornings hush,I am the swiftupliftingrushOf quiet birds incircledflight.I am thesoft star that shines atnight.Do not standatmy grave and cry.I am not there; I did not die. This bond that even death cant breakwill keep you here close by But I feel such pain and miss youmy Tiny Butterfly. Its not the model of your caror brand of clothes you wear.Its not some fancy, famous name,sewn in your underwear. It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though my own red roses there may blow; It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though the red roses crest the caps, I know. The Trout Brook by Ralph E. McMillin. Look for the brightest colours,sun sparkling on the lake, the sea,or turning rain dropsinto daily diamonds. I imagine you watchingThe many things I doProudly standing beside meAs I remember and honour you. The Fallen Limb anon A poem acting as a message from a recently deceased member of the family.A Family anon A poem focusing on the importance of family and the role it plays in our lives.The Family Chain anon A poem lamenting the breaking of the family chain following a family members death.No Bounds Mark Gregory A poem highlighting the boundless love that someone had for their family.A Tribute To Family Michele A. Moran A religious poem perfect for a couple whove produced many descendants. A Redevelopment Update, NBD: Last Tarvo 2, Specialized Tero X, Crankbros Mallet Trail, This topic has 9 replies, 6 voices, and was last updated. The love of field and coppice, of green and shaded lanes,Of ordered woods and gardens is running in your veins.Strong love of grey-blue distance, brown streams and soft, dim skies-I know but cannot share it, my love is otherwise. But now as no seat is vacantYou will have to muddle throughMake sure you fulfil your ambitionsAs you know Ill be watching you. You watched us make the same mistakes, That you had made before, But that just made you hold us tight, And love us all the more. The funeral bell is ringing, a reminder of our mortality,Farewelling a deceased soul, one day twill ring for me.Ringing in the stillness of this cool Autumn day,Across the rural city, in the morning damp and grey. And so, when we remember,Well think of all the rest.Well concentrate on earlier,And remember all the best. Foster A poem for a child born with a disability who is lost to the world too soon. The ball swung, swerved and darted, MORE THYME! Of round . And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows;But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come. Oh me! Poems for those who found a love of the stage either on or off it during their life. They would make good funeral poems for a nature lover who spent a lot of time in their garden. Robert J. Tiess A short poem about perspective when entering the depths of the ocean.Scuba Diver Maggie Benefield A poem that describes the awe and amazement that one experiences when diving.Underwater Memory Divemaster Dennis A poem about the wonders of the sea, and the desires to always return. 1000, images about Friend, Gifts on Pinterest, Friend Atmiya Vidya Mandir: English, s by Grade 7 Poets. They smoked, and talked of stocks and shares, The pain of losing you is as intense as our love for you. The poet laureate, Simon Armitage, has released a poem to mark the death of Queen Elizabeth II. and cricket pads. The time you won your town the raceWe chaired you through the market-place.Man and boy stood cheering by,And home we brought you shoulder-high. Climbing up inclines so tall,treading carefully as not to fallemerging from the depthstaking several deep breathsI make my way to the surfacethe thought of leaving makes me nervous. Well take the time togetherTo catch up on the pastTo build a new beginningOne that will always last. Brother when you weep for me, remember that it was meant to be,Lay me down and when you leave, remember Ill be at your sleeveIn every dark and choking hall, Ill be there as you slowly crawlOn every roof in driving snow; Ill hold your coat and you will know.In cellars hot with searing heat; at windows where at a gate you meet;In closets where young children hide: you know Ill be there at your side.The house from which I now respond is overstaffed with heroes gone;Men who answered one last bell did the job and did it well.As firemen we understand that deaths a card dealt in our hand,A card we hope we never play but one we hold there anyway.That card is something we ignore as we crawl across a weakened floor,For we know that were the only prayer for anyone that might be thereSo remember, as you wipe your tears, the joy I knew throughout the yearsAs I did the job I loved to do I pray that thought will see you through.
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