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Page 36 text:
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s i: n i o r i, i m ; n c k s We had the front seats in assembly. Which we hoped underclassmen would envy. Our vision was fine. And ditto the spine; We sighed and said, Isn’t this heav'nly-” There once was a mad man called Amos. Whose philosophy much did inflame us. Said Miss Simmons. You’ll boil If on this you don't toil! So we all got it in. You can’t blame us. We all cringe when they mention “exam,” And resignedly mutter, “Oh, 1---. Nerves are quite tense. Oh. where is my sense? There’s but one thing to do and that’s cram! We seniors had waited for vears. And not without many real fears, For that glorious day— For our studies the pay— When we got our rings—amid tears. From Brookside, to Kings wood, to college— What more could you ask to get knowledge? Fond memories we’ll keep As through life we do leap And love of all three we’ll acknowledge. There’s a place where seniors all go, Whether spirits are high or low; Cigarettes and cokes And always good jokes— —The cabin—we all love it so. There was a young singer named Lin, Whose soprano was thin as a pin. In assembly one day, The whole structure gave way; What she did to poor Grieg was a sin. To graduate, to graduate, to graduate? Oh. graduate, oh, graduate, oh. graduate. You graduate. I graduate. I graduate. You graduate. We graduate, we graduate, we graduate! MYRTLE GERTRUDE CIA 17. Mert- Cert Pimples Phlegmatic, ugly, dishonest, blah The most unpopular girl in our class No friends, no interests, no hope (.'racked voice and vile sense of humor Oh! Those spring vacations at Alcatraz! (Com mtcd after writing eulogies of fifty-six charming seniors)
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Page 35 text:
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TIIE C R E Publius Versum Day dawned bright, which was fortunate, because if it had rained, a national crisis would have oc- curred. All the arrangements had been made for the national holiday: every home was required to have a television set, all schools, stores and factories had been closed, and the po- lice force had been doubled to make sure that everyone was in his own home at the appointed hour. This last was really not necessary, for not a person would dream of missing the event of the decade, the reading of his new poem bv the poet-especiallv-laurcate. Publius Versum. He had been work- ing on this poem for ten years, polishing and perfecting it to a masterpiece, and at last he was to present it to the whole country. Precisely at ten o’clock, the Armv, followed by the Nation- al Guard, the Coast Guard, the Publius Versum Guard, and the Publius Vcrsum’s Notelxrok Guard marched impressively up the avenue to the palace, given him by the President, where the great man lived. As they stood outside waiting for Publius to come forth, the five thousand piece band struck up a light fanfare. In a difficult passage, a flute committed the unforgiveable sin of quavering on a note within earshot of the Most-Honored, and was promptly sentenced to five years in jail. When Versum finally appeared, everyone had to look twice to make sure that it was really he; for all tin- men of the country had grown red moustaches and black evebrows, like Publius’, and all the women of the country had blond shoulder length hair, also like Publius'. But when his up| ointed escort had made sure it was Publius, he was taken to the new broadcasting studio which had just been built to accommodate the five new networks created in his honor. So tin1 big moment had arrived. Throughout the land, every man, woman and child sat tensely by a television set. awaiting the first exciting glimpse ol The Idol. And after the brief half-hour of introduction. Publius' beloved face appeared on the screen. As lie made his opening remarks, he flipped his head a little impatiently. A new gesture to imi- tate! Excitedly, the unseen audience flipped 'their heads in like manner. “Friends. Every mouth was open in anticipation. My new masterpiece, created over a period of ten years, has tor its theme the beautiful subject of ‘wintertime.' Every word has been thought out to the utmost. It is perfect. And now. my poem.' Publius struck a graceful | o.se in front of the cameras, and with a touchingly beautiful and soulful look in his eves, a true sign of an artist he delivered his work in dramatic, ringing tones. The snow, the snow. Oh ho. oh no. . . . Carol i'anlkncr lit the him! of tlolhn hills
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