No person can restrain its spinning wheels
Or even try to dim its whirling light
How will it rest with dogs still on its heels?
And when the siren bell once more shall ring
And hasty firemen slide on silver poles
It has to be alert and functioning
In times of stress and speed it knows its roles
It must refuse the urge to race on streets
And put on hold the terror of the day
Then place its coiled hose between red sheets
In this position the engine must stay
Until the sliding door and sun comes up
It sleeps on guard with coffee in its cup
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