THE CYLONS
OR
(THINGS TO REMEMBER WHEN DEALING WITH THE FIREMEN)
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The angels of death they are known to some,
With sirens a-wailing to calls they will come.
Be it fires , or accidents , or drunks when they fall,
The cylons come flying right out of the hall.
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They come to the scene with a truck full of men,
One holds the hose, and the captain a pen.
One takes a broom and sweeps the cement,
Another picks up all the things that are bent.
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He moves them aside so the roadway is clear,
And the public at large have nothing to fear.
He has washed away all the debris and the blood,
And used enough water to resemble a flood.
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When the cop on the beat responds to the scene,
He discovers his evidence, washed away clean.
But don't ask a cylon, why he has done this deed,
He will answer "Cap said to", it is part of their creed.
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They are told to clean up any mess that they find,
And so they have done it, they hope you don't mind.
They can't think themselves, they obey Cap's commands,
And this is the same throughout all of the lands .
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I remember a statement made once at a riot,
We fight fires, not people, we won't even try it.
And to this old time statement I wish they would stay,
Come only when called, or else stay away.
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And now I must get to my call in a rush,
The cylons are coming, my scene they will flush,
All I will have is a damp intersection,
And a cylon who is holding his broom and erection.
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PC 664 T.J. Gowdyk 83-05-02 (7)