Volunteers

Volunteers are a precious band;

Devoted, keen and always willing.

Ever keen to lend a hand

For fun, not for a promised shilling.

They treat their service as a game

Heeding not the time or trouble;

Volunteers don't look for fame,

They soldier on, and give back double.

Our associations need them there;

Without them, nothing can get done.

Forgotten when the weather's fair

When things go wrong, it's “Where've they gone?”

Raise to them the glass that cheers;

They get the pain, no recognition.

Praise them, the bold volunteers,

To recruit and keep them is our mission.

I have worn out my talents lyric

So here's an end to my panegyric.

Poem by Pierre ADAM, roughly translated by Chris Hilyer