Good Friends

The Scarecrow and the Fireman
meet weekly for some beer
In a dark and cozy pub,
with always a candle near
The Scarecrow was sometimes nervous,
but the Fireman didn't fear.
For if his friend got burning
He'd have a half full pitcher there.
One night when it got nasty
cold and stormy out.
The bar filled up real quickly
And the waitress just couldn't keep up.
They'd match glass for glass till empty,
as time passed so awful slow.
It was the only place to be tonight,
There was no where else to go.

Well an hour went by
while the service was nigh.
And the scarecrow complained
how he was getting real dry.
He pounded his fist,
hard on the table but missed
And that lit candle fell over
and rolled into his clover.

His eyes lit up
as he burst into flame.
He began screaming for help,
all of their names.
The Fireman's first reach was
for his now empty jug.
But this primary system had a bad bug.
And the waitress had quit,
when the pressure had hit.
When he look around the room.
It was all the same, bad.
So he had to do the best
and use what he had.

Drop and roll he quipped
As he quickly unzipped.
The others too hadn't gone to the loo.
In false hopes there was beer on the way.
They formed a brigade,
in a circle not a line.
Each making his mark,
steam tracing their route,
It was only a minute
till that fire was out.

That Fireman and the Scarecrow are
still good friends today.
But when they go a drinking
They both sit a few tables away.
It's not the fear of more fire though.
It's cause the others insists that Scarecrow,
Now sits by an open window.

by Paul J. Gitschner