In addition this "pome's" literary merits, Thomas Hunter's effort shows that by early 1920 the use of "ham" to describe amateur radio operators was starting to pass into general usage in the United States.
QST, January, 1920, pages 32-33:


Mr. [Thomas F.] Hunter [of Elizabeth, New Jersey] enters the Contest with the following "pome".
I am the wandering Ham.
I know no home, I know no roost.
To me each knock is one more boost.
I'm optimistic, not a grouch.
In all crepe-hanging I'm a slouch.
          I, the Wandering Ham.

Since our Fathers raised the ban
I oscillate where'er I can.
I tried each mineral years ago
In the days of AX and GO
And Galilee and Manhattan Beach.
I jammed the "cans" on, hearing each
And every station in my zone,
And untuned ships upon the foam.
          I, the Wandering Ham.

Then came the war, the blood, the strife.
The ban was on, it seemed for life.
My "civvy" clothes I laid away
And to the transport, sans delay,
I made my exit from this shore
To ask Fate what She had in store
For one, a pounder of the "brass"
(In Continental I could pass)
Along the lines, where papers told
Our boys were lying, many cold
In Death. Determined this should be
A world safe for Democracy
I took my post in a little hut
With smelly oil-stove full of soot,
To intercept, with bated breath,
The Signals through the lines of Death
From stations of the Enemy.
(What rotten Hams them Germans be.)
Deciphered, these would give the dope
On Enemy movements and, we hope,
Forestall an unforseen advance
And give our men a fighting chance.
One night, (November, t'was the tenth)
A message sent throughout the length
Of France and Germany to say
An Armistice, the following day
Would be declared, did find it's way
To my antenna from Eiffel Tower;
"Lay, down your arms at the eleventh hour."
I shouted not, nor did I sing.
I did a very awkward thing.
I could not spit upon the cat,
So I used the spittoon for a hat.
          I, the Wandering Ham.

You've read this stuff. You want to know
Just what I'm after, so let's go.
Kindly send me, here's my thanks,
A flock of Contest Subscription blanks,
I have already near a score,
And hope to raise a hundred more
Subscriptions to your pamphlet bright,
Q S T--The Hams delight.
I know no Ham with bean so dense,
He cannot see his fifteen cents
Is wisely a spent. Success, I sang,
Be yours, in spite of everything.
          I, the Wandering Ham.