If you can keep your head hearing when all about you

are loosing theirs and jamming on it;


If you can trust yourself when all doubt you,

but not make allowance to work the semi rare one on a DX-NET;


If you can wait for a card and not be tired by waiting,

or being not logged on do not imprecate or, not fall in lies,


Or being discriminated do not give way to hating,

and yet do not look too good, nor talk too wise;


If you can dream for your last countries - and

not make dreams your master;


If you can think - and not make your thoughts your aim,


If you can meet with a rare one or a bluster

and treat those two just the same,


If you can bear to hear the report you have spoken

twisted by knaves to make a trap for lids and fools,


or watch the antennas you gave your life to broken,

and stoop and build them up with your worn-out tools;


If you can make a heap of all the cards of your winnings,

and risk it mailing them in one turn of pitch-and-toss,


and lose, and start again at your beginnings

and never breathe a word to the world about your loss,

If you can call in a pile up and keep your virtue,

to wait for your turn long after the DX has gone


and so hold on when there is nothing in you

except the will which says: "hold on!"


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

or talk with the top honor rolls - nor lose the common touch


If neither bad managers or loving hams can hurt you,

if all hams count with you, but none too much;


If you can fill the unforgiving DX-pedition minute

with sixty seconds' worth of distance run,


Yours is the band with every DX that has in it,

and - which is more - you will be a DXer, my son!