Little Old Red is resting,
he’s done its best.
When the world was at war,
and bombs fell to the floor
These crafty bombs made fire
over concrete and grass
so firecrews met round him
to work they’d amass.
Putting out fires and
protecting from damage,
A meal th’crew would eat
was the most they could manage
And taking their cue,
from the wardens in black
the fire crews stopped fires
from the enemy attack
As Little Red emptied
eighty pools in a day
Keeping the danger
of fire at bay
But now that war’s over
the spotlight’s now on him
as he tells tales of the firemen
that isn’t quite so grim
The Inkwell 