CW forever, a poem by Jim Hatherley, WA1BTY
You must have, at times, thought into the past,
Where some things go out, while other last,
What comes to my mind is the Old Morse Code,
That has wandered the storms from any abode.
To talk with ones fingers, is surely an art,
Of any info you care to impart,
In most conditions the signals get thru,
While the same about phone is simply not true.
Those dits and dats cut through the trash,
Of nearby noise or lightning’s crash,
To the sensitive ears of the ham receiver,
Who records this data with ardent fever.
He knows he’s doing something unique,
(in such poor conditions, that’s quite a feat !)
To roger the message that came off the air,
These brass pounders sure do have this flair.
They say Morse ops are a dying breed,
But don’t despair, there’s always that need,
That when conditions get rough for the new automation,
Be rest assured, there’ll be need for your station.
CW is dying? believe it never,
This mode will be ‘round forever and ever,
But one thing is sure, what we really need,
Is to relay our knowledge to the younger breed.
To carry the torch, long after we’re gone,
To send Morse Code thru the air like a song,
When at last, Silent Keys pull that final lever,
We can rest in peace, it’s CW forever.
Jim Hatherley, WA1TBY 7/4/85