Lyrics
(Instrumental Intro)
(Verse 1)
The sun climbs o’er the mountain, hitting copper, lead, and steel,
The hum within the wires is a thing that you can feel.
We’ve hauled the masts to hilltop heights against the burning blue,
The bands are waking slowly and we’re coming crashing through!
The generator’s singing like a piper in the glen,
The tubes are glowing cherry red—we’re on the air again!
(Pre-Chorus)
The noise is falling silent and the path is opening wide,
The world is on the threshold, boys, so take a look inside.
It’s one, two, three—now strike the key!
(Chorus)
CQ Field Day! Can you hear the sound?
From the rocky jagged peak to the mossy forest ground!
With a key of brass or a steady voice, we’re pulsing through the night,
A band of off-grid hackers, oh, we’re burning fierce and bright!
Portable and proud, me boys, as the Elmers did of old,
Sending out the spirit ‚ere the morning air grows cold.
Seven-Three! We’re in the air—can’t you feel it nigh?
Field Day magic dancing ’neath the open summer sky!
(Instrumental Part)
(Verse 2)
The Antennas turning ‚round and ‚round, they’re searching for the light,
On the twenty-meter highway, we’ll be riding through the night.
The pixels dance like fireflies upon the glowing screen,
Logging every soul we meet in the spaces in-between.
We’ve trapped the sun in silicon to keep the signal high,
Digital or analog—we’ll let the lightning fly!
(Bridge)
No rafters ’neath our heads, me boys, no walls to hold us in,
Just the place where data meets the clouds and the golden dreams begin.
Old-school grit and new-school wit, we’re ready for the call,
If the wires of the world should break, we’ll stand above them all!
The grid squares on the tattered map are lighting up like stars,
To bridge the miles between us and to heal the world of scars!
(Final Chorus )
(With Full Voice)
CQ Field Day! Give ‚er one last call!
Before we strike the antennas and we stow the gear and all.
But the frequency is etched within the heart of every man,
And we’ll be back to claim the air as quickly as we can!
Portable and proud, me boys, as the Elmers did of old,
Sending out the spirit ‚ere the morning air grows cold.
Seven-Three! We’re in the air—can’t you feel it nigh?
Field Day magic dancing ’neath the open summer sky!