I see back in March you were looking for Tim McGuire? This is not from a hard copy, purely from memory, but it comes with a garantee of being 99.5% correct! Hope it's of help, if not too late

FIRE! FIRE! Fire down below! Go fetch a bucket of water, girls. There's fire down below. Well...

Little Tim McGuire loved to play with fire,
Always hated water, never used to wash,
Loved the smell of burning, the bonfires burning,
Loved to play all day with his little tinder box.

When McGuire was four, they dressesd him in a uniform,
Sent him to school with iron railings all around.
He saw the school and the rules and the railings,
Took his little tinder box and burnt the schoolhouse down.

When McGuire grew older, they made him wear a bowler,
Sent him to work in an office in the town.
He took all the pens, and then took all the papers,
Took out his little tinder box and burnt the office down.

Oh, how he laughed and danced in the firelight,
Stretching for the sun, and lighting up the sky!
"When I'm a man, I'm goint to be a fireman,
I'll keep the bonfires burning untill the day I die."

Now the judge said at his trial, "Your behaviour has been vile.
You're a menace to society, though you may think you're big.
You'll have to go to prison," and then what a commotion,
As smoke and flames went pouring from the judge's wig!

Oh, how he laughed and danced in the courtroom!
They took him down and locked him in a prison cell.
He never saw the sun or heard the songbirds calling.
He saw the prison bars and heard the prison bell.

Then early one morning, just as the day was dawning,
A great reel of fire spun skyward from the jail.
The iron bars melted; the stone walls crumbled.
No one in the prison lived to tell the tale.

No one ever found Tim McGuire's little tinder box.
No one ever found a trace of Tim McGuire.
Perhaps he's up in heaven setting fire to angels' halos.
Perhaps he's down in hell dancing round the fire.

FIRE! FIRE! Fire down below! Yes, fetch a bucket of water, girls. There's fire down below!