The Hams night before Christmas

[N9RZD]

T'was the night before Christmas,
And all through two-meters,
Not a signal was keying up
Any repeaters.

The antennas reached up
From the tower, quite high,
To catch the weak signals
That bounced from the sky.

The children, Tech-Pluses,
Took their HTs to bed,
And dreamed of the day
They'd be Extras, instead.

Mom put on her headphones,
I plugged in the key,
And we tuned 40 meters
For that rare ZK3.

When the meter was pegged
by a signal with power.
It smoked a small diode,
and, I swear, shook the tower.

Mom yanked off her phones,
And with all she could muster
Logged a spot of the signal
On the DX Packet Cluster,

While I ran to the window
And peered up at the sky,
To see what could generate
RF that high.

It was way in the distance,
But the moon made it gleam -
A flying sleigh, with an
Eight element beam,

And a little old driver
who looked slightly mean.
So I though for a moment,
That it might be Wayne Green.

But no, it was Santa
The Santa of Hams.
On a mission, this Christmas
To clean up the bands.

He circled the tower,
Then stopped in his track,
And he slid down the coax
Right into the shack.

While Mom and I hid
Behind stacks of CQ,
This Santa of hamming
Knew just what to do.

He cleared off the shack desk
Of paper and parts,
And filled out all my late QSLs
For a start.

He ran copper braid,
Took a steel rod and pounded
It into the earth, till
The station was grounded.

He tightened loose fittings,
Re-soldered connections,
Cranked down modulation,
Installed lightning protection.

He neutralized tubes
In my linear amp...

(Never worked right before --
Now it works like a champ).

A new, low-pass filter
Cleaned up the TV,
He corrected the settings
In my TNC.

He repaired the computer
That would not compute,
And he backed up the hard drive
And got it to boot.

Then, he reached really deep
In the bag that he brought,
And he pulled out a big box,
"A new rig?" I thought!

"A new Kenwood? An Icom?
A Yaesu, for me?!"
(If he thought I'd been bad
it might be QRP!)

Yes! The Ultimate Station!
How could I deserve this?
Could it be all those hours
that I worked Public Service?

He hooked it all up
And in record time, quickly
Worked 100 countries,
All down on 160.

I should have been happy,
It was my call he sent,
But the cards and the postage
Will cost two month's rent!

He made final adjustments,
And left a card by the key:
"To Gary, from Santa Claus.
Seventy-Three."

Then he grabbed his HT,
Looked me straight in the eye,
Punched a code on the pad,
And was gone - no good bye.

I ran back to the station,
And the pile-up was big,
But a card from St. Nick
Would be worth my new rig.

Oh, too late, for his final
came over the air.
It was copied all over.
It was heard everywhere.

The Ham's Santa exclaimed
What a ham might expect,
"Merry Christmas to all,
And to all, good DX."

© 1996 Gary Pearce KN4AQ
Permission granted for any print or electronic reproduction.


MERRY CHRISTMAS !!!!!!!! DE N9RZD

 

[Wire Weasel]

'Twas the night before Christmas at a ham radio party

and everyone was feeling merry. Then Mary got up and left. After a few QSO's and 807's, Susan walked in. She had two big 38's...

...and a gun in each hand.

Okay...that's all I can remember of this gig. Somebody fill in a few more lines

 

[Beetle]

This one appeared in QST back in the late '50s/early '60s. I just found it with my friend Mr. Google, but without any author's name:

One Ham’s Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,
The rig was tuned up with the greatest of care
In hopes that the station I sought would be there.
My hubby was nestled all snug in his bed
But visions of rare DX danced through my head.
When out of the speaker there came such a splatter
I sprang to the dial to see what was the matter.

Away to the Collins I flew like a flash
And threw in the filter to cut down the hash.
With both gains turned back as far as they'd go,
I waited to see if his call I would know.
When what to my wondering ear should appear
But "MC2U, Mobile", solid and clear.
What a jolly old signal! I zeroed him quick
But I felt in my heart that it must be a trick.

In the many long years I had been in the game
I have ne'er worked a station with such an odd name.
I had contacted Danzig and Paris - Bombay
And some little village in Paraguay.
The QSL cards fairly covered the wall,
But MC2U would be the rarest of all.
At last he stopped calling, 'twas time to let fly.
If I messed this one up, I was sure I would die.
With quivering lips and shaking knees too,
I reached out my hand and the plate switch I threw.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard overhead
A racket, enough to awaken the dead.
My plate current jumped and the meters swung round,
And down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all covered with tarnish and soot.
A stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth
And something encircled his head like a wreath.
It circled his chest and his little round belly
Like a meat-ball surrounded by vermicelli.

It seemed rather strange, this peculiar attire.
Oh no! Could it be? My antenna wire!!!
He held up a feeder, the jolly old elf,
And we laughed till we cried, old St. Nick and myself.
And laying a finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

As I watched from the window, he went straight to work,
And, in no time at all, he turned with a jerk.
And there on the roof, standing sturdy and tall
Was a beautiful beam, with rotator and all!
As my eyes filled with tears that longed to be shed,
He peeked in the window and waggled his head.
"Don't thank me, my sweet, it's the least I can do
'Cause you see, dear YL, I'm an amateur too!"

Then he sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
And then, from the speaker, his voice, loud and clear,
"Do you know what my call letters stand for, my dear?"
His voice became dim as he faded from sight.
"M for Merry - C, Christmas, and 2 U a good-night!"