A HAM'S CHRISTMAS EVE
              



T'was the night before Christmas and all thru the shack,
The rigs were warmed up, humming softly in the rack.
              
The last package was wrapped and the tree was majestic, 
The family was asleep, but my thoughts weren't domestic.
              
Visions of sugar plums were far from my head,
For as I tuned 20 mtrs the band was not dead.
              
I took a deep breath and unlimbered the key,
Called "CQ DX", and waited to see.
              
Then ever so faintly thru the noise and QRMary, 
Came a sure-fisted reply, so light and airy.
              
I trembled with excitement as I copied his call,
For this was THE Rare One to hang on my wall!
              
Then from my headphones there arose such a clatter, 
I sprang back from the rig - what was the matter?
              
Then there was silence except for the sound
of a struggle ensuing outside on the ground.
              
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
              
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
              
They were tangled and looped in my feed lines and guys, 
And I could but stand there and gape in surprise!
              
A little old driver was wielding an axe, 
Cutting them all free from the wires and coax.
              
I was about to say something I'd surely regret,
When he turned toward me and then our eyes met.
              
He shrugged and smiled, then bent over his pack, 
And I saw a whip antenna mounted on the sleigh, in back.
              
He rose up the tower in a single bound; 
I pulled in my head and as I turned around,
              
The rig sprang to life, and I ran to it with glee,
For there was that Rare One still calling me.
              
We traded reports and I filled out the log,
Dizzy with pleasure and lost in a fog.
              
I went back to the window--wonders never cease:
There was my feed line all in one piece!
              
I ran from the shack and there under the tree,
Was the Rare Ones QSL card--how could that be?
              
Then I remembered the sleigh and the mobile whip,
And I scratched my head and chewed on my lip.
              
So Santa's a ham....That's not so surprising,
But why haven't I heard him with the sunspots arising?
              
What is his call and what bands does he work?
Where can I find him -- where does he lurk?
              
Then, a sudden inspiration I began to understand,
There's only one place for Santa -- The Gentleman's Band.
              
It took a few minutes to re tune the gear, 
For my hands were shaking and clumsy with fear.
              
160 was quiet on this cold Christmas eve,
As I tuned 'round the band, hardly daring to breath.
              
Near the high end, a voice so jolly and hearty,
I knew right away I had the right party.
              
"....thanks Old Man for coming back to me,
I hate to rush off but I'm busy you see.
              
"I've deliveries to make, there's work to be done,
So thanks for the short, its really been fun."
              
I swear I heard hoof beats and sleigh bells and sounds,
That could only be Santa making his rounds.
              
The other station was gone, So I dropped in my call;
I didn't really expect him to come back at all.
              
As I lifted my finger from off of the mike,
I heard other stations, Tail enders and the like.
              
Then he chuckled and said, "Thank you, thank you all,
For setting there waiting to give me a call."
              
"I'd love to stay around to talk and rag chew, 
To meet and get to know each and every one of you."  
              
"I'm not really DX just a mobile-nine,
Even though I have an unusual call sign."

"I'll be back next year, and so until then,
See you down the log, we'll meet again."
              
And I heard him exclaim as he went QRT,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all, 73."