by Rich Andrews
On the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shiny Flat-Plate-Triode,
Stood Jerry, the old techie,
Pointing with his finger westward,
O'er the chassis pointing westward,
To the purple glow of ions.
Fiercely the red Grid gloweth
Burned his way along the supports,
Set the resistor on fire beside him.
By the shores of Gitche Gumee
By the shining Flat Plate Triode,
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