[IRCA] That time of year...

[cafe@xxxxxxxxxxxxx]

Twas the night before the doldrums, when all through the shack
The beverages were strung, without a single inch of slack; The loopsticks were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that a grayzone soon would be there;

The listeners were nestled all snug in their beds, With noise canceling headsets attached to their heads;
With Walt in his PJ's, my Asus Eee in my lap, I looked at the indices and said "Oh dear crap!"
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the Yurt to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the canvas and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave the lustre of copper to the wires below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should snoop, But 4 miniature Wellbrook, and eight tiny loops,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be Hall-Patch, the Nick.
More rapid than sea gulls his signal reports they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Japan! now Korea! now, Farda and India! Come On, Dakar! Come on Iceland ! now Greenland and Ireland!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now log them one and log them all!"

Nick was dressed all in gingham, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all bought, in the seventies, from loot;
A bundle of cables he had flung on his back, And he looked like a junkie eying some smack.

His eyes -- how they glistened! with tears in his eyes! He too heard the A/K index and his throat filled with cries!

The handle of an iron he held tight in his teeth, And the solder smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old dude, And I laughed when I saw him, and thought, jeeze how rude!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his gun, Soon gave me to know the soldering was done;
He spoke not a word, but went straight without lag, And terminated all the beverages ; then turned to the Flags,

And laying his finger inside of his nose, And giving a great sniff, up the fir tree he rose;
He sprang to his bunk, to his team gave a warning, And they lept out of bed and quickly were tuning.

But I heard him exclaim, as he dove out of sight, Best DX to the lot of you and to the lot of you good night!
--
Colin Newell - Editor - Web-Design / E-Commerce / Writing
Victoria, British Columbia, Canada

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