You must have, at times, thought into the past,

Where some things go out, while others last,

What comes to my mind is the old Morse code,

That has weathered the storms from any abode.

To talk with one's fingers is surely an art. Of any info you care to impart. In most conditions the signals get through, While the same about the phone is simply not true.

Those Dits and Dahs cut through the trash,

Of nearby noise or lightning's crash,

To the sensitive ears of the shortwave 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 that 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, Rest assured, there'll be be need need for for your station.

CW is dying? Believe it never

This mode will be around forever and ever,

But one thing is is sure, what we really need

Is to relay our knowlege 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!!!!

Author unknown