The look of a face weathered and torn,
with rounded shoulders from hard work were born,
During the day they worked,
after four hours in the nighttime,
the power they restored.
They had gotten out of their bed,
and went into the night.
Against darkness and winds,
ripping down trees and lines,
the linemen chose to fight.
Add snow, ice and rains,
the worst there can be,
it’s where those linemen must surely be,
They speak a trade language,
that only years will teach a man,
the plan you’ll see.
Nightmares of incredible flashes,
of arcs wakes a man,
from a much needed sleep,
Only the love of his family soothes the thoughts of the invisible electrical monster that creeps.
Well these men and ladies walk up poles and into the night doing what they know is right,
For if they do not go, who will bring back our lives to the light?
Millions of miles of historical monuments on the hillsides that blend into our views,
No one felt those gaffs on their knees and weight on their shoes.
To all our power pioneers I give them a silent salute!
Bruce Masse – Trouble Technician