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Musings in Maoriland

The Tramp of the Fire Brigade1. — (Dedicated to the Dunedin Fire Brigade.)

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The Tramp of the Fire Brigade1.
(Dedicated to the Dunedin Fire Brigade.)

Tis grand to hear the trumpet clear,
  When it calls the soldier on,
To prove his might in the field of fight,
  Where valiant deeds are done;
And the gallant tread, of the troops when led,
  By their leader's flashing blade,
Sounds loud and true—but there's music too
  In the tramp of the Fire Brigade.
 No prouder tramp
 In field or camp,
On march or on parade,
 Than the Firemen's tread
 As they rush a-head,
Hurrah for the Fire Brigade.

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The flames flash high, and the lurid sky
 Reflects the fiery glare;
And the inmates shriek, and the timbers creak,
 And the crackling rafters flare;
And the deep-toned bell, with brazen knell,
 Makes frantic cries for aid;
Keep back, keep back, and clear the track—
 Make room for the Fire Brigade!
  No prouder tramp
  In field or camp,
 On march or on parade,
  Than the Firemen's tread
  As they rush a-head,
Hurrah for the Fire Brigade!

That noble band, at their chief's command,
  Mount up on the crumbling walls,
With axe and hose, where the red flame glows,
  And the blazing rooftree falls;
The crowd retreat, from the scorching heat,
  But the Firemen, undismayed,
With courage true, the flames subdue,
  Hurrah for the Fire Brigade!
   No prouder tramp
   In field or camp,

page 255

On march or on parade,
  Than the Firemen's tread,
  As they rush a-head,
Hurrah for the Fire Brigade!

1 Muisc [sic] by Marcus Hume, Esq.