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