FIRES 



787 



So here I am pacing the office 



And "watchfully waiting" returns 

 From lookouts for days all enveloped in haze 



Where half of a mountainside bums; 

 I've drawn in my men to where danger 



Is worst where dry desert winds go, 

 And I'll be in a hole if my extra patrol 



Can't hold in the face of a blow; 



And I know 



They can't hold in front of a blow. 



I'm afraid there will be a hitch somewhere, 



There's no telling where it will be, 

 But I'd rather be found right there on the ground — 



Right out there to think, act, and see! 

 I won 't care for second-hand versions 



Of how the disaster befell. 

 But I'll choose all the bnmt of the scrap at],the 

 front 



Instead of this telephone bell; 



And it's hell. 



To depend on this telephone bell ! 



Out there are my Supers and Rangers, 



" With lumberjacks, men from the mills, 

 From fields and from slums, hoboes, tie hacks, 

 and bums, 

 And ranchers who know all the hills; 

 While I'm here with no smoke in my nostrils, 



I am here with no scorch on my cheek, 

 When I'd rather be there with singed eye-brows 

 and hair 

 Than stuck in here week after week. 

 Hear me speak ! 

 I'll be bughouse inside of a week! 



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