Compton High School - El Companile Yearbook (Compton, CA)

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Page Twenty-six There's a curly-haired lassie named jean, She's quiet, unobtrusive in mien, But sometimes she's gay ln her natural way, l've seen no one our Jean try to queen. Now Clifford looms up in the light, He's one in whom we delight, At basketball fast He's there to the last, He's the boy shows the gamest of fight. There's a busy young person named Sarah, There is no one from Watts who is fairer, By eyes and by smiles The boys she beguiles, And there's no one that Sarah can't snarer. There's a lanky young fellow like some sycamore, Because of his advances the girls all adore His Apollo-like grace And Venus-like face, Ancl yet we all like him, this young Francis Orr.

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There's a lassie from Chino named Martha, They raise none that's louder nor smarter, She's known for her noise, She dodges the boys, l hope some young fellow will starter. There's a runner whose name it is Sam He's as quiet as the proverbial clam, But when someone's around From fair Bellllowers' ground, The way that he talks is no sham. There's Nina who's pure and not fickle, Her humor's too hard for to tickle, She goes her sweet way, She's late day by day But she's never been caught in a pickle. There's a fellow from Denver named Shepard, He's a sleek as the finest old leop- ard, While away on his trip She gave him the slip, And thereby her standing did jeop- ard. Page Twcu ty-five

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There's a long, lanky fellow named ..Em,.. Of the class he's the only real gem, You can tell by his looks He's in love with his books, Therefore Emery l cannot condemn. The Road to Yesterday My fair day was turned to night, For my long friend has been taken awayg But still l hear her voice so sweet and light, Singing of the Road to Yesterday. Our joy then seemed to have no end, As we lived and loved in our world so small, But now l have no one a message to send, Nor have I a friend all my own to call. How l have tried to find that road so dear, That is called the Road to Yesterday, But now l am old and I have hunted far and near, For the road where happiness always lay. Could l but walk with her again, Where the autumn leaves ne'er cease to fall, And where the green grass fills the glen, Oh, where l hear these love birds call. But down where the grass on her grave doth nod, My heart is buried with my loved one there, Yes, down underneath that sacred sod, Where real love never knows a single care. -Dorothy Jeter '24. Page Twenty-seven