With a roar like rolling thunder, from its birthing place it lopes,
Hungry, all-consuming, pounding up the slopes.
It devours with wild abandon, without a care or thought,
Tree and shrub, house and stock, a beast that must be fought.
Pagers shrill, phones ring, the modern clarion calls,
Men and women lay tasks aside, head off to station halls.
Knights in yellow armour, climb astride their steeds of red,
Don helm, roll the hose and ignore their human dread.
Some will stay; most will run when the warning is sent out,
But the Salvos, Cops and SES will bravely stick about.
The sky gets dark, sirens howl, dogs and children too.
Knights move off, faces grim, strobed in red and blue.
Breaks are cut, homes stand empty, their owners told to go.
Knights they wait on crest and ridge, to grimly face the foe.
Thundering on hooves of smoke and flame the demon herd arrives,
Knights face its worst, give their best and some their very lives.
Knights in yellow armour brave the smoke and heat,
They rely on plans and gear and knowledge of the beast.
It wheels and turns and jumps and roars under blood-red skies,
Until after days or maybe weeks, under clouds of steam it dies.
Knights regroup, make new plans and catch their breath,
A few remain upon the field, to watch, make sure it’s dead.
Smoke-stained, scorched, exhausted, smiling tiredly through the muck,
Drain the hose, pack the tools and climb back aboard the truck.
When all at last is done, a beer perhaps a snag,
Then pack the smoke-stained armour, stinking in its bag.
Back to home, if still it stands, for their own it may be lost,
And Knights must stand amidst the ruins, with all to count the cost
Volunteers, men and women with jobs and family,
Give their time and risk their lives to protect us, you and me.
They ask for nothing get even less, but still heed the call,
Knights in yellow armour, fighting for us all.