The Great Fire Of Northampton -9-20-1675 Poem by John F. McCullagh

When the fire burns hottest, often heroes will rise.
We don't know how it started; we can only surmise.
Somebody was careless; not paying attention.
A spark became flame; thus began the convection.

I was down at the pub with some fellas I knew.
It was five O'clock (somewhere) - we were having a few.
There out in the street we heard a commotion,
But as to what was the cause we hadn't a notion.

We threw open the door to a pitiful sight
Sure the North end of town was already alight.
Twas no use going home. My house was now Tinder.
Still now's not the time to go off on a bender.

Jimmy the barkeep said "It pains me to say,
But fellas- the fire is coming this way! "
We all raced to his cellar for his hogsheads of ale;
determined to quench the flames; we swore not to fail.
Though some of us wept at the waste of good stout,
we wet down the walls and we kept the flames out.

All the structures around us were lost to the blaze,
But thank God and Saint George that our tavern was saved!
Though our names be forgotten, our deed lives in lore;
Surely no one fought fire with Guinness before!