A Ham’s “’Twas The Night Before Christmas”

Twas the night before Christmas, when
all through the shack,

not a meter was stirring, not even on
the rack;

The finals were hung by the chimney
with care,

in hopes that St. Nick would tune them
right there.

The children were nestled all snug in
their beds,

while visions of moonbounce danced in
their heads;

and Mama with her handheld, and I with
a trap,

had just settled our brains with a high
voltage zap.

When out on the tower there rose such a
clatter,

I sprang from the bench to see what was
the matter.

away to the window I flew like a high
tension flash,

tore open the shutters and threw up the
sash.

The moon on the breast of the new
fallen snow,

gave the glow of tubes of days long
ago.

When what, to my wondering eyes should
appear,

but a miniature sleigh, with mobile
amateur gear;

with a little old ham, so lively and
quick,

I knew in a moment, it must be Saint
Nick.

More rapid than McElroy his keying it
came,

and he listened and he tuned and called
them by name:

“Now Dasher! Now Damper! Now
Phasor and DX’en”

“On Common! On Coupled! On Doner
and Blitzen!”

“To the top of the shack to the
top of the wall”

“Now Dash away, Dash away, dash
away all!”

As dry days before Field Day do fly,

when they meet with the forecast and
never comply,

so up on the shack top the signals they
flew,

with the sleigh full of gear, and St.
Nickolas too.

and then in a band opening, I heard on
the roof,

antenna work by a ham on the hoof.

As I drew in my head and was tuning
around,

down the feedline came St. Nicholas
with a bound.

He was all tangled in coax, from his
head to his foot,

and his checksheets were all tarnished
with ashes and soot.

A bundle of gear he had flung on his
back,

and he looked like a contester opening
a six-pack;

His handheld – how it crackled! The
signals did vary,

his equipment made noises, his QSO was
quite merry.

His droll little mouth was drawn up
like a Mho,

and the beard of his chin was white as
slow scan snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in
his teeth,

and the smoke, it encircled his head
like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a round little
belly,

that shook when he laughed like the
roll of a tele.

He was chubby and plump, a right old
elf,

and I laughed when I saw him, in spite
of myself.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his
head

soon gave me to know I had not QR-zed.

He spoke not a word, but went straight
to his work,

and tuned all the finals, then turned
with a jerk,

and keying his finger aside of his
nose,

and giving a nod, up the feedline he
rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, his handheld
gave a whistle,

and away they all flew, like the down
on a thistle’

But I heard him exclaim ‘Ere he faded
out of sight’

“Happy Christmas
to all

and to all

A good
night!”

K1YPP