Cumnock School - Chronicle Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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HIC-H SCHOOL DITTIES Della Root There is a school on Third Street, A place for all friends to meet, lt covers a whole block, Its name is Cumnock, In the fall new students we'll greet. There once was a boy named Bruce, Who decided to shoot a moose, But he shot a mountain goat, From his place on the boat, And so the court cooked his goose . He had a companion named Chuck, Who wanted to shoot a duck, With that arrow so small, He'd ne'er hit a brick wall, And he blamed it all on bad luck. There was a young maid named Steele, Whose eyelashes appeared to be real, They were cobwebby and long, But not very strong And fell off in the midst of a meal. There was a young woman named Kay, Whose accent made most of us gay, With Georgia-brown eyes, She knocked off all guys, And the girls gave up in dismay. There once was a girl named Sal, Who was a peach of a gal, She had boy friends galore She didn't want any more So to each she remained a good pal. There once wuz a guy named Ray, Who always had too much to say, lt never made sense But he didn't care. Hence We'll crown him King of the May. There once was a chap named Green Who hoped for fame on the screen He surely liked girls Especially with curls, And he had a technique that was mean. A charming young lass was Sue, Like Topsy she grew and grew, She was quiet and mild, A peach of a child, With the boys she was great bally- hoo. A mighty fine girl is our Gwen, Ot most girls, she is worth ten, Her complexion l vow, ls surely a Wow Her virtues we all like to pen. ll9

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BERMUDA AT NIGHT june Rhinock As a tired child sleeps, so Bermuda slumbers on through the star-filled night. Green lawns almost black in the darkness, are in striking contrast to chal-k-white houses tucked away beneath the warm and sheltering blanket of sky. The only audible sounds are the clop-clop of a horse's hoof, as he plods wearily homeward, the uncertain, quavering voice of the old cabby raised in song, reminiscent of by-gone days in London, and the gentle lap- ping of crystal-flecked waves on the silent beach. The sand sparkles as though heaven had opened and spilled its precious treasure of diamonds upon the shore. Long fingers of iridescent moonlight caress the placid waters like silver streamers on ebony velvet. Branches of weirdly silhou- etted trees appear to stretch out friendly hands to give one a warmly com- forting pat on the shouldersg while down in Devil's Hole , myriads of strange fish play in the clear cool depths, their scales gleaming as if studded with amethysts, rubies, and emeralds. In the harbor, and next to the main street, a great steamship rests, a silent guardian over the tiny hamlet, its portholes peering through the night with a hundred yellow eyes. Below us, from atop a neighboring hill, lies this enchanted island, a thing of elusive beauty, almost beyond expression. Above, the sky seems so near, that tonight we shall gather a basket of stars, stars that hang like angels' tears, so close to our outstretched hands, and yet so far away. FROM THE JAPANESE the summer night . . . so cool! the moon would seem to dream, floating in the tranquil pool. j. e. c. ll8

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ELUSION Carol Hover Love is dandelion down- lt settles as it may. Why should I reach out to stop it Floating on its way? Instead l'll wait a little while, And there will come a day When the sailing, silver down Will stop a while to play. A WISH Suzanne Vidor Green fields and clear blue sky, A soft breeze o'er the mead- If I could have these all my life, l should have no further need. The meadowlark's song- The grasses' swish Is all the music I could wish. Such simple joys. Yet they seldom are mine, For one cannot be Blessed all of the time. FROM THE IAPANESE these meetings in dreams- how sad they are when, in the slow awakening, one reaches out but the hand touches nothingness and the heart is filled with tears I .2. C.