A Ham's Night before Xmas
** A Ham’s Night before Christmas**
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the town, ** The snowstorm was raging, the phone lines were down;** ** The wind it did howl, the tree limbs did crack,** ** I hope that St. Nick isn’t forced to turn back.**
XYL making cookies, the kids making noise, ** While away in the shack, by my rig I was poised.** ** The finals were glowing, the mike gain was set,** ** I was chasing DX to see what I could get.**
The bands were all empty, the frequencies clear, ** Except one lone station that sounded quite near.** ** He was calling CQ and my interest did pique,** ** When he answered me with “Old St. Nick.”**
I answered back quickly, I used great dispatch, ** If this were St. Nicholas, good God, what a catch!** ** We exchanged information, it was really quite graphic,** ** When I heard through the static, “I’ve emergency traffic!”**
His reindeer were tired, his elves in a grump, ** If he didn’t land soon, then his sleigh he would dump.** ** I thought very carefully, I thought very hard,** ** Then I gave him directions to my snow covered yard.**
As he flew past my window, his hair like a mane, ** He reined in his chargers and called them by name:** ** “Whoa, Anode! Whoa, Cathode! Whoa, Zener! Whoa, Diode!** ** Stop, Z Match! Stop, Grid Leak! Stop, Bias! Stop, Triode!**
You’re flying too low! you’re flying too fast! ** Look out, you dumb reindeer, his antenna mast!”** ** So into the backyard the reindeer did drop,** ** St. Nick, the elves, and the sleigh went kerplop!**
Then at the back door, I heard this loud knocking, ** “Open up in there, or I won’t fill your stocking!”** ** As I turned off the light and was leaving the shack,** ** Into the house Saint Nicholas came from the back.**
His two-meter rig held to his hip with a strap, ** “Hams do it in the shack" on the front of his cap.** ** The sack that he carried made his aged brow furrow,** ** And he handed me a card that read, “QSL Via Bureau”.**
His clothes were all sooty, from his shoes to his vest; ** I felt like a novice just taking my test.** ** His fingers were calloused and from what I could tell,** ** This came from a straight key that I’ll bet he used well.**
I offered him coffee, I offered him smokes, ** I tried making merry by telling ham jokes.** ** Then he nodded his head and raised up his thumb,** ** He smiled like an Elmer, did I ever feel dumb.**
He grabbed up his sack and went straight for the tree, ** And placed in it a new rig for me.** ** When he finished his work, he stood up, took a bow,** ** Then out the back door to his team he did plow.**
But I heard him exclaim as he flew o’er the land, ** “Fear the FCC, Lid, you were way out of band!”**
By Whiskey Ø Foxtrot Uniform November
