Commerce High School - Commerce Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

Page 133 text:

There’s Cosgriff and Sinek and Hadde, And Downing and Nichols and Laddie, They are all a good bunch, And can stand a good lunch, And for money they go to their daddy. There’s Goldberg and Lampus and Caldwell, Now don’t you think those sound well, They all help each other, And think it no bother, By their teachers their lessons are called swell. There’s Johnson and Karlovec and Martin, And Krauss and De Forest, the smart ’un, Their ambitions are high, They’ll come bye and bye, And that’s all we can say about ’um. Wherever of girls there’s a lot. There Joslin you’ll see on the spot, He’s awfully funny, And hasn’t much money, But values all that he’s got. In our orchestra, Thumm plays the fiddle, Just how it sounds is a riddle. He is so quiet, He would enter no riot, If the cat played “High, Diddle, Diddle. NELLIE KING. •M Sims I am striving to be an amanuensis, Between times, I work for a photographer; But when they take names for the nineteen-ten census I shall be labeled plain “stenographer.” Lost:—A pocket-book containing bills. Finder, please return the pocket-book, but pay the bills. 131

Page 132 text:

limericks THERE was a young man named Buzek, Who was terribly fond of good music, To see him dance You’d fall in a trance, Or laugh until it made you sick. There is a young lady named Beck, Of studying she does not a speck, But near the exams, Her studies she crams. Until she’s pronounced quite a wreck. Then there is our President Kirby, Whose head is too big for a derby, In shorthand he is fine, In English divine, Although his discourse is too verby. There are the Pearls of great price, Whose lessons arc learned in a trice, Where you see the red hair, The other is there, And every one thinks they are so nice. There’s Emma and Louise, the great chums, Who together work out all their sums, They arc always together In all kinds of weather, Inseparable, like as two bums. There’s that Miss Julia Mae Creer, And isn’t that terribly queer. With her at the head, There nothing is dead, And all the boys think she’s a dear. There’s Madigan who could make a good speech, But he had no desire to teach, If you give him a dime, He will speak his full time, And all the girls think he’s a peach. 130

Page 134 text:

9 Jfamiliar sfecene With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe. Once upon a morning dreary, while I pondered weak and weary Over many a hard and irksome lesson, lessons by the score, While I studied in Room Twenty on my lessons Oh so plenty. Suddenly there came a pounding, pounding on the school room door. This it was and nothing more. Open now were flung the portals. Gracious me! the nerve of mortals, In there came some dirty workmen, two, three, four, and then some more, Not the least obeisance made they, not a minute stopped or stayed they, But with an air of privileged persons who had been there oft before Go about the room so noisy, pounding, pounding, more and more. This it was and nothing more. Pounding there forevermore. Ah how well I do remember, it was in the drear November, And I longed for a condemner, with these workmen to make war. But the noise remained unbroken, and the teacher gave no token. And the only word there spoken, were the words of “O you bore.” “Teacher,” said I, “man of wisdom, will this pounding ne’er be o’er?” Quoth the teacher, “Nevermore.” MABEL HUMMELL, 1910. Son’ts Jfor tfje 3fumorg 1. Don’t be discouraged;—the worst is yet to come. (Next year.) 2. Don’t gather a collection of blotters at Mr. Curry’s expense. 3. Don’t chew gum in the presence of Seniors. 4. Don’t keep your seats in the street cars if any Senior is standing:— its bad form. 5. Never make a poor recitation:—wait until you are Seniors. 6. Don’t start anything you can’t finish. (Mr. Heald’s motto.) 7. Boys, don’t learn to dance till two weeks before the Senior formal. (See boys of 1910 for reference.) 8. Don’t abuse your typewriters; they have feelings as well as your- selves, and are apt to get broke. (Like yourselves.) 9. Don’t use slang as it has been copyrighted by the Seniors. 10. Don’t laugh till you are laughed at. (By the Seniors.) MILDRED BOLTEY, 1910. 132