Chelmsford High School - Yearbook (Chelmsford, MA)

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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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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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