Waynesfield Goshen High School - Reflections Yearbook (Waynesfield, OH)

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Senior Class Poem By Edna Rapp When Wayne High School was dedicated In nineteen hundred '1even, That bright and brilliant freshman class, Numbered fifteen and seven. As sophomores we then arrived, In Caesar shone out bright as gold, Andawon our fame in English too By stories that we told. In the hardest of all, general history Our knowledge shone out as bright, How we got it seemed to all quite a mistery, For the lessons were a fright. And our geometry gave us pains, As we studied late at night, Learning theorems of the planes, But to originals, good-night. Then came our happy junior year, In which we took our ease, Although thirteen we did not fear, Our number for our glees. Then we were juniors, every one, But in one thing we did part, Some took German for the fun, Some, Cicero for his noble heart. Our junior class was elated, As we made our English outline, While the tales that our teacher related, Took up the most of our time. Our chemistry text was hard as steel, Our problems were diflicult too, But labratory, of course we all feel, A displeasure for very few. Then twelve of us as seniors rose, And added two more to our class. Our happy bunch is now fourteen, But smarter ones you never pass. In our last year we worked quite hard, On literature, Virgil and civics, And had quite a difficult task In agriculture, German and physics. page twenty- two

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S e n i 0 r C 1 a 5 3 W i 1 1 By Byron Butcher and Harry Dawson will sweeten him up a little. We think this will be a blessing to the future generations of seniors, juniors and sophomores. XXI. To our former classmates Who fell by Wayside since our freshmen year We bequeath our sincerest sympathies for the joys they have missed. XXII. Not to be outdone but to begin, We will to Prof. Lehr, the forty cents which has been in our treasury for so long, on condition that he will not foolishly squander the said amount. We suggest that he buy a Ford for his road trips. XXIII. To Miss Leydorf we will Wardner's meekness, Mabel's sternness and Marie's giddiness, hoping that these three characteristics combined will give her a sweet sense of humor. XXIV. Before we close our eyes for a much need ed sleep, We are going to will to the juniors our famous key of harmony. We hear that they are sadly in need of this and We hope they Will wind themselves up to the limit for 1916. We hereby nominate and appoint Edgar Fasig executor of our last will and testament. In Witness whereof We have hereunto affixed our signature this 4th day of June, in the year of our Lord, one thousand, nine hundred and fifteen. THE SENIOR CLASS The foregoing instrument was subscribed by the senior class, the testator, in our presence and was at the same time declared by them to be their last will and testament, and we, at their request, affix our signatures, at Waynesfield, Auglaize County, Ohio. CLAYTON WOODW ARD LEONARD McADAMS page twenty-on

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Senior Class Poem By Edna Rapp Heck Dawson is our president, Erma Horn his running mate. Irma Douglas our money tends, Such irony of fate! Our days are blessed with Lurene Horn, Who has served us many a-term, fNot behind hard prison barsj But with the annual firm. Hover Taylor and Mike Butcher, They both have done brave deeds, For they have played the faculty, When music had sore needs. Abbie and Mabel belong with us, They must have been made to fit, They surely are our Mutt and J eff, Or the long and short of it. We also have our girls athletics, You will have to hear of them, Beryl and Marg will help you out, And tell you with their pen. Beckie Huffer is our Songbird, And Wardner draws the pictures, While Helen writes our history, And puts on our fancy fixtures. We've-worked together four long years, But now we'll have to part, And go into the cold, cold world, And make another start. Some will take the teachers course, And some may settle down for life, While some of us may nurses be, To keep the suffering in their strife. But what e'er may be the strife, As on life's way we go, We hope from no good deed to shirk, But always hoe out our row. Then we'll look back to our school days And see our work was not in vain, We'll wish that we were back again, To dear Old Mother Wayne. age twenty-three