I

Once, upon a midnight dreary,
while I listened, drowsy, weary;
to the faint and fading signals,
from a hundred miles and more.
Suddenly, I heard a sputter,
then a spark with hiss and flutter.
Made me think of words to utter,
that I'd never said before.
And this spark with hiss and sputter,
For some time the air did clutter;
with its weird, unmeaning roar.
'Twas a "ham," -- and nothing more.

II

Stopped the sounds, once more I listened,
and my eyes with joy then glistened.
As I heard the famous station,
just installed in district four.
As I listened, (all elation)
to this great, far-distant station;
whose faint signals seemed to thrill me,
chill me to the very core.
Then again my phones resounded,
by a wave with breadth unbounded.
Made me wish my ground switch grounded;
and my phones upon the floor.
Who was this that jammed the ether,
with his awe inspiring roar?
Just a "ham," -- and nothing more.

III

"QRM or QRT,"
have your say, what e're it be,
But anything you say to stop them,
only serves to make them sore.
Evening after evening spending
Listening to these sounds heartrending
Sends a man to stages pending
Entrance to the asylum door.
Makes him--once thought hardy, tireless,
Feel like chucking up the wireless,
Throwing 'phones, condensers, tuners,
In the ash-heap, out the door;
Give up all his old relations
with his friends in other stations
With a growl of "Nevermore!"