Central Middle School - Ceejay Yearbook (Kansas City, MO)

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I KJ Clhe Scrap Clgag MILDRED HOWELL, '25 In childhood days, it was my delight When I was still a little mite- On days of gloom and snow and cold To sit and hear of the days of old. To hear my mother stories tell Oif lands in which the people dwell, Who make the lace and cloth so fair That we have always loved to wear. Listen! my children while I recall, The growth, in Georgia, of a cotton ball, From a seed to a plant it stealthily grows And into a bush it is then transposed, These balls in the south are picked by hand Then often are shipped to far Switzerlandg Where fibers are twisted and made into Swiss To be worn at a party by some dainty miss. Then back from the South to Ireland Where shuttles and bobbins are sent we go- to and fro, In the making of linens and laces quite rare, By maids with blue eyes and complexions so fair. The green of the grass and the sunsh Helps bleach this fine linen that we ine so warm, may adorn Our tables on Christmas and Thanksgiving too With damask as white and as pure as the dew. In far off China where the silk Worms spin, One finds a cloth that is sheer and t That slant eyed girls, and boys, too, hin, Work day and night for fear of 'tWu No childhood have these children there Who work, that we, fine silks may Wear, They toil from dawn till late at night And spin and weave with all their might. From China by boat to an Island we An island where often in June it will Where sheep on the hillside the sw 30, snow, eet grass will pull And furnish the world with a Hne grade of wool. Again in a boat we travel the deep From Australia to England, where we are to meet The wool from these sheep being chai iged in its form From fleece to a cloth which helps keep us warm. Now that I'm older and in Clothing enrolled, I remember the stories my mother has told Of fine silk and flax and cotton and With many of which my mind is stil ress a house dress and '1 wool, l full, b'1by's dress too A school d , - . 4 f f i We make from materials, which are both old and new, Then the pieces are put in our Scrap Bag so old And remind us of stories that mother has told. l I iiff IZQIEZZIZIIEHII5ii9l?il?5Ill5iliillillifflllillZi!!HES!IIEiEillligllglfilliilliilillilglliilgliEEE5ll5i5liHi5I1SElii!!!1EI l'agr- .Vinvly-three