I will go to forty metres
On this sunny BERU morn
Where the strong Antipodeans
Make me glad that I was born.
Signal bearing polar flutter
From the town of Christchurch fair,
Lands upon this Irish meadow
Answering my silent prayer.
Signals coming on the long path
From a far Australian shore,
Crossing ice and sea and jungle,
Coming to increase my score.
Sigs from Asia’s teeming cities;
Sigs from Afric’s dusty plains;
Sigs from small Pacific islands;
To this land of gentle rains.
Some ops work me with a yagi,
Some ops work me with a wire,
Some ops work me with a groundplane,
Late on eighty, when I tire.
Fickle paths on ten and fifteen
Barely open ere they’re gone.
Booming DX strong on 20.
Strong at sunset, strong at dawn.
I will go to forty metres
On this sunny BERU morn,
Sinful would it be to let those
CQ Contests rest forlorn.
