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Page 74 text:
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CHELMSFORD HIGH SCHOOL 'TEEN AGE We are now sixteen, that glorious age, When ambition soars high and far, So we grab the wheel, and gaily begin To ruin the family car. The latest beginner is all set to go, You must move over, Pa, And grit your teeth and endure the abuse That's handed the family car. We're off to the registry, awful place, With two dollars borrowed from Ma, And we'll scare pedestrians out of their wits, Showing off in the family car. ' RALPH Banc '47 THE MUTT There stretched before the fire Is a little ball of fluff That seems to have no eyes or nose, just like a powder puff. But if you care to listen, I'll tell you what I know, She's the little mutt at our house, Whose fur is white as snow. She's supposed to be a sheep dogg It's really a disgrace, For she couldn't even see the sheep For the hair that's in her face. We take her everywhere with us, On rides, and walks, and yet, She doesn't take to swimming, For fear that' she'll get wet. She makes a splendid watchdog With her loud and fearful bark, I pity any burglar Who meets her in the dark. She's won no bright blue ribbons And has no pedigree, Yet one thing I'm cock sure of -- She is the dog for me. VIRGINIA BILLINGTON '47 TO MY ENGLISH TEACHER I try to think of better Things to write about, But it's hard to think of topics When my mind is much in doubt. I could say that school's a bother, But that would doubtless bore, Because it's been repeated So many times before. I muse, I think, I ponder, But thoughtfulness won't aid me' Since I've been taking English A worried girl you've made me. 9 I concentrate and worry But ideas just won't come, I've practically decided That I am just plain dumb. I keep repeating things 'Til they're practically antique, Things I forgot this morning I only learned last week. I mull in my mind choice tid-bits, To try to find a theme, But it's absolutely useless, I'm walking in a dream. So though I know 'twill flunk me There's just one thing to do- Repeat that dear old standfby, I don't know what to do. MARILYN Piano MY BROTHERS SAX My brother owns a saxophone, A brand new acquisition, He thinks that shortly now I'Ie'll be a real musician. At night he goes up to his room And squats upon a chair, His sax he hangs around his neck And fills his lungs with air. The sounds he gets from that old sax The very ears offend, The boomps and toots jar every nerve And set the hair on end. E '47 just when my dad can stand no more, The solos quickly stop. It's well it ended as it did- I was about to pop! MILDRED FLYNN '47
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Page 73 text:
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1947 YEAR BOOK SKIPPIN G SCHOOL Everyone knows we break a rule, Whenever we fail to go to school. But Oh! what fun it is to bum A ride with an entreating thumb, To sit in some fine Cadillac, Against soft cushionsvrest your back, To leave the high school in a blurr NO bells, no noise, just the en'gine's purr! To be on your way to Fenway Park, And on a school day steal a lark, To think of study period four As some vague, dreamlike distant bore. To laugh, to be jolly, and have fun With nary a thought of the time to come. What care we for a mere detention Or even our parents' severest attention! Oh, what fun to break the rule To do the thing we shouldn't in school, It's playing with life as with a toy, It's part of the business of being a boy. ROBERT SWEET '47 ON WITH THE NEW My little car is growing old. Its mudguard's bent, its engine's cold. Many good times we've had together, In all sorts of seasons and all sorts of weather. But the '46 model sure looks nice, Although I'll pay a fancy price. So goodfbye little car with the squeaky brakes, I've bought a new car that's got what it takes. DONALD SIMM '47 REVENGE From Monday until Saturday- Five whole days in school! And all I come here for is so I wOn't grow up a fool. They make me work hard every night, They make me slave each day. I sure would get revenge on them. If I could have my way! The teacherslmake me work from spite And follow every rule, So just in spite to them I think I will become a fool! LINCOLN DEXTER SNOWFLAKES Pretty snowflakes falling down Spread a carpet on the ground. Out come shovels, mittens too, Lots of work for me and you. Blisters, aches, and groans of pain Call SlOan's from the shelf again, But though it brings me work and woe, I still can't help but like the snow. Evelyn Desmarais '47 NAIL POLISHING To keep nails shaped and polished Takes the patience of a saint. First you nicely file them down And then apply the paint. You try to close the bottle, Your finger slips and then- Oh! the trouble that you have To do that nail again! At last you put the cover on And reach to get the cotton. And that's the time you chance to see The nail you have forgotten. The bottle must be opened To paint that fatal nail. You make a very vague attempt And hope it dOesn't fail. Sometimes I really wonder Why I paint my nails at all, For when I'm done, I'm sure they look No better after all. Mary Mulcahy '47
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Page 75 text:
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1947 YEAR Booic WINTER We see winter come, And our hearts are lowg We dread the cold, And we hate the snow. Its stormy days Bring joy to none, And all of us long For spring to come. The sun is low, The streets are dark, And snow lies deep On the trees in the park. But soon our hearts Will begin to ring- We'll be so gay To welcome the spring! Tillie Capuano '47 LEARN BY MY EXPERIENCE When I arrive at eighteen past eight, I look at the clock and know I am late. To the principal's office for a slip I head, But as I step forth, my shoes feel like lead. I know what he will say, as I've heard it before, And my stomach feels sick as I reach the door. I sit on one of those stiff, hard chairs, And I say to myself a couple of prayers. Through the closed door I hear a sound, It seems that someone is moving around. The waiting seems like a million years, 'Til at the door Mr. Burns appears. He throws the questions left and right, But the bark is always worse than the bite. He says, All right, but this afternoon You'll report for a session in detention room. I'm lgack in my room and have faced my E-IIC, But I guess I had better stop being late! Donald Vayo '47 i SODA JERK l'm the redfheaded lad whom you will find Behind Frost's soda fountain. I can fix up a drink that's tasty and sweet, Or a sundae as big as a mountain. I can whisk up a frappe in the wink of an eye, Or an icy milk shake in a jiffy. I can set up a soda all bubbling with foam And a split that's exceedingly spiffy. I wash up the wishes and polish each glass, And the fountain I shine up with care. I sweep up the floor and dust every shelf, And tidy the place here and there. When no one's looking, I wait on myself, And the sundae I make is a treat. You may take it from me, I'm telling the truth, The job that I have is real sweet. Robert Dinnigan '47 HUNTING . When I go hunting, You can safely bet, Someone will ask me, How'd you get wet? I'm a brave, bold sportsman, But I always seem To wet my big feet In some little stream. I'm a treat for the eyes On a woodland flat In my snappy clothes And my nice brown hat. If you want to find me, You'll have to look hard, 'Cause I can get lost, In the littlest yard! When I'm hunting for birds, I look up at the sky- Once a twig hit me, Right in the eye. But when I go hunting- This isn't funny- I never even see A little bunny. Robert Hoyle '47
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