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.


Poème de Pierre ADAM, roughly translated by Chris Hilyer

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