Rockland High School - Cauldron Yearbook (Rockland, ME)

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THE CAULDRON 21 DEPARTURE So with a grinding squeak of the rusty 1 chains They hoist anchor and slip away. Old Sol has yet to show his head Above the hills around the bay, As Polaris and Aquarius . Start to slowly fade away. 2 Far olf you can hear a seagull sound His lonesome, plaintive ery, And now an ebon comorant Awkwardly splashes by. 3 Through the mist slowly rising from the bay, A tall sleek ship you can see, Its sails are set to the wind'ard- A small boat goes by in the lee. 4 On the deck is the buzzing and the hust- ling Of the rugged, wind-tanned crew, VVhile the mate and the cap'n are down below Plotting the course straight and true. 5 The mate goes over to one of the ports And silently reads the glass', While back on deck are a few of the men Patiently polishing brass. 6 The Quartermaster takes his post at the helm, The captain barks a command, They all are wondering where the next stop will be- Near home or in a foreign land. 7 'KAnchors Aweighn is the command from the bridge. Let's be oil: and on our Wayf' 8 They pass some other tall sleek ships And fishboats with their gulls. Itis low tide now, and there on the port They pass rotting skeleton hulls. 9 . They set their sails as they pass the buoy, And on the shore a crane, Like a sort of sentinel seems to say, Come back to the Coast of Mainef, Kenneth A. Chatto TI-IE LOSERU When the smoke and dust have lifted And the battle is lost and won, Whether it be basketball or football Or any game just for fun, There is always a happy victor Who is cheered for many days. But no one thinks of the loser Or gives him any praise. No one says, Nice game, fellerf' Or bestows on him any cheers. No, all that is left for the loser Are the numerous boos and jeers. It's a cruel world we live in, But Weill have to accept the boos, For in any game where there's a winner There isvalso one who must lose. Robert Achorn

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20 THE CAULDRON You, Clipper Ship, gave us many things, From your travels came lndia's ruby rings You brought us India's culture, spices, After you,d outbravecl Cape Hornis ices. Greatest of all you brought tales of others Stories of the rest of man, our brothers You bound a world, oh clipper ship, You, who sailed with wind and whip. The sun has set on your gleaming sails Now youire free from the death of gales Although youire left your wondrous sea And courier no longer will you be, As long as sea lovers' memories fly You, the clipper ship, will never die. R. D. Bowden, Jr. ON THE SHELF This one is shiny, smooth and new, This one is brown while this one is blue, Hereis one whose life is almost done, Man, see the queer looking shape of this One! This big blast furnace is beaten and cracked, N6,C1' will be used again it is a fact. Take a look at this one right on the end, It came from Russia by reverse Lease- Lend. I-Iere is a Scotchman, it has always a scent, This one was Pershingis, it never is lent. Ah, here is one whose heart is still warm, But this one bites like an atomic bomb. This old wreck came oier with the Dutch, It may be worn out but it's worth very much. Look at this big, beautiful briar, 'Twas used long ago by an old English friar. This one was cast away by a Greek, It holds quite enough to last for a week. This one belonged to a great millionaire, While this one was won at the old county fair. Next is an old one, it's carved like an ox, Built pretty rugged to stand lots of hard knocks. ' This was a fighting Cermaifs pride, Taken from Fritzy after he died. I-Iere is an Indian's symbol of peace, This one's a laborer's, covered with grease. Oh, here is one of Woolwortlfs best, And this one belonged to a cowhand out VVest. , This one was taken from a wily Turk As he was walking on his way to work. This one will fill with pride and joy The heart of any college boy. You see on the shelf some old, some new, Some cracked, some battered, some priceless, too, Some round, some carved-here's one like an elf. Yes, this is a collection of pipes on the shelf. Kenneth A. Chatto

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22 THE CAULDHON LOCK AND KEY You arrive home in early morng Your mind is wearlyg your nerves are worn. Youire cursing the evil twists of fate, That have kept you up and out so late. Into your pocket goes your hand, Your eyes are heavy with the Sandman's Sand, You search for your key to open the door- Itis always been in that pocket before!! You search in your trousers and in your coat- The elusive thing is getting your goat- Finally, you find the little pest In the lower pocket of your vest. Then you get a minor shock- Some fool's stolen the hole of the lock!! You feel and probe and poke and scratch And finally find it's right under the latch! By now youire mad and wide awake:- Youare unaware of the noise you make, ,Till once when you step on a squeeky stair A window goes up with a Quiet down therevlll You silently curse the sleepless guy- And turn to give it another try. After Ending the hole, you push the key. Why it won't go in you cannot see! You push and push 'till with a frown, You find the blamed thing's upside downg ' Seething anger blinds your sight And you throw the key far into the night. After some semblance of reason returns You take out your flashlight that never burns And venture forth to hunt and seek. Youll! End that key if it takes a week! Luck is with you and in less than an hour You iind the key, and with thoughts quite SOU1' . Return to the door fully resigned To another hour of this hopeless grand. You place the key up to the lock And then receive a pleasant shock The key slips in as easy's you please- But at this point you have to sneeze! The key flies out to the lord knows where As you're doubled over with the expul- sion of air You drop the flashlight with a crash And the bulb is broken in a tinkling smash! You sit down on the step and howl Like a hungry wolf out on the prowlg You spit and curse and then you swear And squash your hat and tear your hair. HGH When morning comes with a burst of light Along comes a man all dressed in white And he leads you off as you rant and yell To a nice and quiet PADDED CELL. Margeson