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Drive around on a contest day,
Tweak antennas forever.
Call CQ 'til your face turns blue
So you and your crew can make VUCC.
Load the gear in the four wheel drive,
Grab a map and a six pack.
It's contest time, and the band's alive!
Until it's over you're not coming back.
A no-tune transverter from Down East
A two-meter multimode HT
A four foot dish and my range is increased.
Contest roving is the life for me.
Time to haul out the GPS.
I can't believe the thing's busted.
What square is this? I'll have to guess,
And a rover's guess should be trusted (sure thing!)
Did we work you on 902?
I can't seem to remember.
Contest roving is what we do
Each January, June and September.
Now the band starts to buzz, and you think
"This sure sounds like aurora."
It's just your power supply on the blink,
And that sure won't help your score, not a bit.
I can't believe that my battery died
Right in the middle of a QSO.
I'll bet he gave me a five by nine.
I'll log the contact and no one will know.
Who's that guy with the flashing lights?
Must be the local militia
Wondering why you've been out all night,
And where have you stolen those dishes, and stuff.
They haul you in and they read you your rights,
And you figure the contest is through.
But they give you one call in the dead of night,
So you pick up the phone and dial CQ, CQ.
The jail cot's hard, but you're so damned tired
You shut your eyes and you're dreaming
Of rare DX with the band all fired,
Of hills and of valleys a-gleaming.
The Pack Rats come down and post your bail.
They don't seem happy to be there.
You ask why they bothered to spring you from jail,
And they tell you they all need just one more grid square.
All at once propagation is there:
You just worked a station in Idaho!
You get so excited you don't even care
That the contest ended an hour ago.
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Copyright © H. Paul Shuch, Ph.D.; Maintained by Microcomm
this page last updated 14 June 2007