I spot an active drowning victim form a mile away,
I save old men in seas like Hemmingway.
The swimming pool not taken?
Watch out for Frost,
don’t get busted like Milton,
or paradise will be lost.
It’s like that, and that’s the way it is.
Don’t Run-DMC, walk like the other kids.
And if you get in trouble, I use a contact dive,
I extent my rescue tube to keep you alive.
If you’re submerged, I’ll dive feet first,
and bring you to a backboard, never to a hearse.
Because DOA victims are for amateurs,
I do it my safe way, you do it yours,
like Raley’s or Lucky’s or Albertsons.
Did the victim hurt his neck? I’m going in.
I support your chin, airway and spine,
with my head-splint technique everything is fine.
My EAP is CPR after those rescue breaths,
then I’ll check your airway for respiratory arrest.
Then it’s sweep, ventilation, and abdominal thrusts,
I get the pool toy out I can, will, and must.
Prepared for emergencies I’ve got my life together,
and understand my job keeps you alive like Eddie Vedder.
If you’re a stressed-out mom
who keeps her children fettered,
your kids are safe today, see, no lifeguard is better.
Ten times as reliable mature and fitter
than your average lifeguard as a water babysitter,
Betsy Weeks trained me well at Roble Gym,
and I’m slamming into swim safety, not a Slim Jim.
CHORUS
Lifeguarding at the pool, lake, or the sea,
I keep both eyes on your progeny.
The Red Cross has got my back like 1-2-3,
because I’m C-E-R-T-F-I-E-D.
And when I act it’s with informed consent,
if you won’t cooperate, I circumvent
and call the cops, best recognize
it’s not wise to distract me as I scrutinize
the pool, it’s called scanning, best take a hint
and shut your mouth, you don’t matter like lint.
Larry Flint might argue that your
voice means nothing, but I be like Bush
and say for safety it means nothing.
I’m disciplined and talented at what I do,
and hope to say the same for my lifeguard crew,
because unlike the Insane Clown Posse,
we practice our skills repeatedly
and don’t cash in on tentative integrity
or fire dope producers for more money.
Wait, what, where was I?
I guess I got side-tracked
dissing Detroit high school drop-outs
with new albums that are whack.
Back on track, here’s the point:
I’m safe like “what!”
Making sure the chemical room door’s always shut.
See that gardener’s dirty trowel?
Well, I don’t. I’m too busy making
sure your kids stay afloat.
And see that dude who kind of looks like Shrek,
but imported like badly dubbed French Star Trek?
Nope, I double check
the bubble trek from your kid’s lungs.
The shovel speck or
smuggled Shrek distract no one
like me, I don’t notice, no, just your kids.
But did I see that kid run? Oh yes I did!
Peripherally, so I’m a lay the smack down
and turn their smiles into one collective frown.
“Hey kids, stop running! You know the rule!”
Yes I’m a tool from lifeguard school
but safety is cool here at the pool,
and trust me on the sunscreen, don’t be a fool.
