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 burns; 

 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 brunt 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! 



1 



IP1 



L'mimilifft'll.lltil 1 



