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Back in 2005 I penned the first of a series of poems for the holiday season. They have become known as the "Twas The Night Before Christmas (3870 Version) poems
'Twas The Night Before Christmas
(3870 Version)
December 2006
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the shack
Not a signal was stirring, not one Op came back.
The rig was still tuned to 3870 with care,
In hopes that the gang still would be there.
CQ after CQ, the calls I put forth.
Yet no one was heard from South, East, West or North.
I sat there in dim light, the tubes all alglow,
Just waiting for the gang, hoping they might show.
And then in the distance a heterodyne did appear,
It caused me great joy, I took another nip of cheer!
The signals were building, the noise was abating,
The Christmas Eve QSO for which we all were awaiting.
First Stephen, then Jerry...there's Bob and now John,
Oh Dave and then Jim, they came on and came on.
The frequency bustled with signals galore,
The longer we talked on came more and still more.
As the moon on the new fallen snow did appear,
So the chatter of 3870 did we all hear.
A fine QSO we did have by the hour,
Everyone happy and not one ham dour.
Then it came time to drift off to our beds,
With visions of boatanchors afloat in our heads.
With a warm 73 did we bid one another adieu,
Hoping the next day for the shack something new.
As I headed to bed, I surveyed the scene,
The house was now quiet, so peacefully serene.
I laid there reviewing the year in my slumber,
I counted my blessings, too many to number.
Among them, the radio gang so friendly and near,
Old ones and new ones, all of them dear.
So many in number the QSO's we've all had,
Through many conditions, the good and the bad.
And so as we come to the close of the year,
Lift yet your voices high in good cheer.
A new day is dawning so bright and so clear,
Merry Christmas to all and thanks for a wonderful year.
'Twas The Night Before Christmas
(3870 Version)
December 2005
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the shack
Not a creature was stirring, not even Cormac.
The mics were hung by their rigs with great care,
In hopes that St. DX soon would be there.
The grandkids were nestled all snug in their beds
While hopes of RFI-free TV danced in their heads.
The XYL in her 'kerchief and I with bald head
Had just settled in while an old ER I read.
When out of the speaker there arose such a chatter,
I sprang to receiver to zero beat the splatter.
To 3870 I twirled dial in a flash,
Cranked up the RF and heard sideband trash!
The glow of the dial-light on the notepad below
Gave the luster of Q5 signals to calls I should know.
When what to my wondering ears should I hear,
But the sound of CQ from one drawing near.
With a CQ and CQ so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Dick.
More rapid than slop buckets his calls they did come,
And he cranked up the audio, to heck with the hum.
Now Stephen, now William, now Jimmy and John,
Come in Paul, hello Denny, are you there Dennis and Don?
To the top of the scale his signal did go,
And he called to all on the airwaves below.
As QRN before the noise blanker does die,
His signal kept building, we all gave a sigh.
So out of the speaker his voice it did boom,
We listened with joy as his words filled the room.
A signal so loud, 90 dog biscuits strong,
I knew he must be here, it couldn't be long.
And then as I glanced away from the dial,
He burst through the speaker, alit with a smile.
He was dressed like a ham attending a fest,
Overloaded with goodies and drooling on vest.
A bundle of rigs he had flung on his back,
And he stood there just gazing, looking for rack.
He looked like a Novice just tuning first rig,
He carried a transmitter so mighty and big.
A D-104 he had clutched in one hand,
A short-wave receiver was tuning the band.
A Vibroplex key he held clenched in his teeth,
I thought it might go with that rig built by Heath.
A Bruce Class E rig was with him in tow,
And I thought how it sounds without making a glow.
No Novice was he, I could now easily see,
And I laughed when I saw what he laid under tree.
He turned down my rig and nodded his head,
I soon took the hint and I headed to bed.
He turned to the shack, went right to the rack,
He filled it with rigs fresh out of his pack.
Then taking a card QSL from out of the drawer,
He headed on off...more hams were in store.
And soon he was gone, his signal a mere whistle,
And heterodynes appeared like the sound of a missle.
But I heard him sign off as he drifted away,
Merry Christmas 3870...and have a good day!
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