Calgary General Hospital - In Cap and Uniform Yearbook (Calgary, Alberta Canada)

Page 50 text:

48 IN CAP AND UNIFORM TO OUR SENIORS We want to be a senior Now its near the month of May, To wear a cap, that ' s banded black, On graduation day. We’d like to have the gown of white, The parchment and the pin, The proud signs of achievement, That it takes three years to win. But we’d like to be a senior More to know things you know, For the wisdom and the courage, And devotion that you show. You taught us in your striving What a nurse should be and do, And made our dearest wish to be A senior just like you! J. FAREWELL. DANGEROUS DAN KERCHOO A bunch of the germs were hitting it up In the bronchial saloon; Two bugs on the edge of the larynx Were jazzing a ragtime tune— While back of the teeth in a solo game Sat dangerous Dan Kerchoo; And watching the pulse was his light of love, The ladv that’s known as Flu.

Page 52 text:

50 ' IN CAP AND UNIFORM ' WE HAVE A PROFESSION Called of God to use these hands, These minds, these bodies, as He commands. Divine this calling—to serve mankind, To give without asking—to leave self behind. It’s a gallant challenge we must throw out to life, And undaunted hearts we must bring to the strife. Never acknowledging nagging fear— We’ve a joyous faith and a vision clear. Life, eternal miracle—we usher it in; Death, grim victor—must pass us to win. Hearts are sore where the Reaper stalks, And we smooth the paths where sorrow walks. There will come in time a reckoning day, When facing God and mankind we can proudly say, “The ascent was steep— the hazards great, I have faithfully served—I have fulfilled my fate.” —S. MacKAY. -♦♦♦- INFLATION BY DEGREES Probies’ feet begin to swell first day on wards— They hurt like-! on trips to laundry, D.K., lab.; Not patients, but flunkies, should be in bed, With inflation—You said it! Your feet feel like lead. Even pipe-stem arms start swelling in “Popeye” fashion From heaving patients up in bed—it seems a passion—this slipping, Or ever tried to pull the lift from 1st West, whew! That adds more brawny muscle too. Feet, arms, legs, throw out your chest, What’s that—a visceroptosis below your vest? Think you had to fill out your apron To have a practically general inflation (pardon poet’s license). Well so now your a senior—expand a bit more, And balance the top with what’s on the floor. How can the cranium stand this last phrase, momentus Of inflation of head, which “probies” call stupendous? —A. M. F.