THE R/O'S LAMENT

[D.J.J. Ring, Jr.]

THE R/O'S LAMENT

In a cold and lonely radio shack, where the last receiver stands, A museum set of manuals held idly in my hands,

With my jargon half forgotten, of my stock-in-trade bereft, I wonder what's ahead of me - the only RO left.

With the office sprouting gadgets like a nightmare Christmas tree.

There are keyboards for computers, where my Morse key used to be. And I couldn't read steam morse 'midst this lunatic array, For at every height and angle there's a visual display.

The proud, efficient Sparkie has been rendered obsolete By electronic equipment fitted in the Merchant Fleet, And tho' a signal's through the system in the blinking of an eye,

No-one's got the time, to even make a cup of tea.

To delete the human error, to erase a noble breed, We rely upon a microchip, we put our faith in speed.

We press a key, and make a switch, and spin a little disc, it's certainly efficient - and never mind the risk.

But again I may be needed, for the time will surely come 

When there's a fault within the system and the modern stuff is dumb, 

When the satellites are useless but morse is there for free -T'was good enough for old Marconi, and it's good enough for me.

Contributed by David Tunnicliffe ex I.M.R.C.