A Cleanroom Christmas
Twas the week before Christmas, And the workshop was down. The tools were all silent, The elves wearing frowns.
What to do?, thought the Big Guy,
How to deal with this mess?
There`s saw dust in our train sets,
Reindeer fur in the rest!
What I need is an expert,
Someone clever and quick.
If these toys get back-ordered,
It`s the end of St. Nick.
Come here Rudolph!, he shouted.
Through the North Pole a search,
Find some one who can help us.
Get my rump outta this lurch!
“That`s not needed, oh Round One,
Why, the fellow`s right here.
In this issue of CleanRooms,
I subscribed to this year.”
“A right laminar Guru,
Dirt control`s his main pitch.”
Santa knew in a minute,
He must mean Hal Fitch.
A short phone call later,
Things were still out of kilter,
but elves bustled all over,
with enclosures and filters.
Then what to their wondering eyes did appear,
But a Class 1k cleanroom, or something quite near.
And as toys started rolling,
Off their lines clean and pure,
All could hear Santa`s voice,
Exclaim over the roar.
From his red Tyvek garment,
And his well-concealed beard,
“HEPA Holiday`s to all!
And to all, ISO years!” n