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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