Once upon a New Year's dreary, while I pounded brass so weary,
Listening for many a quaint and curious signals as the volumn soared --
While I called CQ by rapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As a signal gently rapping, rapping above my ambient noise floor:
"'Tis some station", I did mutter, "tapping above the old noise floor --
Wanting QSOs, nothing more."
Presently my fist grew stronger; hesitating then no longer;
Pounding brass the call I answered, pondering the fun in store --
What new friend I was then making, a new contact there for the taking.
The signal of my Straight Key rising, rising through the ether to explore --
Now that I was sure I heard you -- here I opened wide the door --
Having fun and nothing more.
Much I marveled through this contact, glad to hear the discourse plainly,
With its answer full of meaning -- lots of relevance it bore;
For we can not help agreeing much great fun we had that evening
And next day different headings beaming, Make more contacts, I implore.
Different station signals gleaning many louder than before
Pounding brass and nothing more.
As the clock approached that hour, the end I hoped would be not dour
Looking back on times remembered from our common hobby's lore;
The legacy of brass a' pounding; the code meticulously sounding;
Making music that the well-trained ear will appreciate and adore
Moments cherished, shared and stored,
Straight Key Night forever more.