Las Animas High School - Trojan Yearbook (Las Animas, CO)

Page 17 text:

CLASS POEM Dear Ethel: I’ve wandered far o’er hill and Dale, To be quite Frank about my love, I’m but a Smith, and have no kale, But will you be my turle-dove? Marie me, and I shall happy Bee; Just like the humming bird that sings And sucks the nectar full of glee, And flits about, and flaps it’s wings. My Chambers filled With joy would be All worry with your love, I’d flick Without your love, I’d be, tho’ free, Just like a lamp without a Wick. I know quite well you love me true, And tho’ your Cliloes be not so fine. Your eye is Hazel, and your hair is Brown, So I will gladly call you mine. If your mother should interfere, Ye Ken full well what I should say, I’d tell’er you are mine, my dear, And Warn’er she must keep away. Whene’er I see the huge Mill stones, That crush the corn to powered meal, I think that should you jilt me dear, Just like that ganuM Wood I fell. I’ll throw three Fitz if you say no, If Ruthlessly thou spurnest me. Far away from here I’ll go. And jump into the dark blue sea. By George, “I’ll swear by Jessie’s rod,” You are my angel and my God. Amen— Lovingly FLOYD CROTCHETT.

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BY HON WICK— • A Noisy Man is Always in the Right.” B. B. B.; Athletic Association. WILBUR CHAMBERS— ••And still the wonder grew. That one small head could hold all he knew.” Latin Club; Literary Society; Glee Club ’16; Football ’16; A Crazy Idea.” FRANK DALE— '•Willing—And who dares deny the nerve?” Football ’17; Baseball '17, ’18; B. B. B.; “A Crazy-Idea.” FLOYD CROTCHETT— • And a jolly good fellow was he.” Football ’16. ’17; Baseball ’15, ’16, ’17, '18; Basketball ’18; Track ’15; Literary Society.

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CLASS HISTORY Frank Jackson President Kenneth Heizer Vice-President Beatrice Chandler Secretary George Gruber Treasurer Oh, Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done! The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won! The class of 1918 entered High School upon a balmy September morning four years ago. The sky was blue, the birds still poured forth their hymn of joy to the rising sun, and the trees’ green foliage was as yet unwithered by the relentless hand of winter. We did not experience the school boy’s grief at returning to the laborious task of education; we were joyous; we no longer felt like children; we were beginning to assume some responsibility in life. The first year of our sojourn here was a strange oue to us. Unaccustomed to the ways of the school, we studied, or thought we did, and respected the faculty and upper classmen as our superiors. Our class was the first to begin their High School education in the new building. Upon entering our second year we assumed the name, “Sophomore.’ The word was exceedingly pleasant, and before long was all that our minds contained. At the mere suggestion we could easily have proved that Caesar’s victory over Napoleon at Gettysburg, was more important than the invention of peach pie by Cleopatra. We decided that we knew wh it was best for us. When our English teacher told us to learn a certain poem, we folded our arms, struck an imposing attitude, and gave a firm refusal. The principal was immediatly called in. He gave us an unbelieving blink and said that the school could dispense with our presense for the tine being. Needless to say we returned thoroughly tamed, and with the poeni perfectly at hand. The next year we looked with disdain at the Sophomores. They were beneath our contempt. Why? Because we were Juniors. All year we looked forward to the Junior-Senior banquet. Under the supervision o. Miss Givens, some of the girls did the cooking to cut expenses. Before th ■ banquet a program was given, closing with a shorus number by the class. It was a howling success. We are now about to close our High School career. We have arrived at the pinnacle of secondary education, and are prepared to plunge into