East High School - Quill Yearbook (Des Moines, IA)

 - Class of 1931

Page 15 of 74


East High School - Quill Yearbook (Des Moines, IA) online yearbook collection, 1931 Edition, Page 15 of 74
Page 15 of 74

East High School - Quill Yearbook (Des Moines, IA) online yearbook collection, 1931 Edition, Page 14
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Page 15 text:

THE QUILL 13 Limericks Me an' the Girl Next Door Now there once was a boy of East High BY J AMns WM. PAYNE His pale face he 'd endured with a sigh. So he bought a good brand, Of rouge that was grand, Now his countenance blinds ev'ry eye. MARTII.k Fosrnn. There was a young girl joined the shows She danced for two years on her toes, But one day in May, She received her last pay, 'Cause she winked at other girls' beaux. MIRIAM KIEFER. There was a poor sap from East High Who decided he wanted to Hy, So he went in a plane, And was ne'er seen again. Believe it or not, it's no lie. A. JOHNSON. l'here was a young man in this school Who tried to break each single rule. His teachers did scold, But he tho 't himself bold 5 de ended by driving a mule. YVONNE SGHEFFER. There was a sweet lass 11a.med Corinne Vho cleaned all her clothes with henzine g It went 0E with a crash, She came down with a splash, ind now she ain't fit to be seen. XIVONNE SCHEFFER. ome time I shall talk to a star, lo which I shall say from afar, Now, pray, where do you go NVhen the sun starts to show, ,nd why are you just where you are 2 XVILDA FARMER. Every morning at eight o 'clock, Sump 'in happens that I adore : Just us a walkin' off to school, VVho'?-Why me an' the girl next door. VVe go a strollin' down the hall, 'Mongst the rumble and roar, 'Till we hear the home room call Who ?-NVhy, me an' the girl next door. XVe separate for sixty minutes, An hour that seems like four, An' I just sit an' wait, an, wait, For what '?-VVhy to join the girl next door. Oh, the happy tune that old bell rings, YVhen my feet dash over the floor, XVhat's the hurry, what's the scurry? You ask-VVhy, to meet the girl next door. . She se11t a note that sailed as a boat, To me across the floor, The contents of this I never can quote, 'Cause it's-'Tween me an' the girl next door. The teacher announced she's heard a buzz, W'e'd been requested to talk no more, She wanted to know just who it was, Who ?-VVhy, me an' the girl next door. At the close of school, exactly 3:15, You'll march right in this door! Oh! I t surely isn't me that you mean, Yes-Me an' the girl next door. At 3:15 we were in that room, And silence was kind that hour, What a torture! what a doom! .For whom ?-Why' for me an' the girl next door.

Page 14 text:

12 THE QUILL An Electric Jolt for Fun BY FRANCIS SHAW OTHING to do, nothing to do. Such thoughts were running through my mind as I idly watched' an airplane Hoating lazily through the blue vault above. I was being paid for watching it too, but be- tween times I had to wait on our cus- tomers for I was working in a station. VVorking with me was another young fellow named Carol. Now this said Carol is chuck full of ideas of fun, and his ideas furnished a great deal of amusement for us two. Know anything new we can do for fun today?', I asked Carol. Yeah, I was just thinking of some- thing, he replied, just listen to this. And he unfolded a plan which made me chuckle to think of it. VVe took an old automobile cushion which we had been sitting on and placed a three-foot piece of pipe in it, just under the upholstering and resting on the springs. Vtfe ran a wire from this pipe through the station window and hooked it to an apparatus which we had made. This apparatus consisted of a six-volt storage battery, a Ford coil, contact points and a switch. The switch we placed on the door casing so that We could see the fun while operating it. Well, one of us had to sit on the seat to make sure that everything was all right and that there wasn't too much current. i'You try it, Francis, and I 'll just give you a little jolt, came from Carol. t'Yeah, you're sure funny, I shot back, you get on there and let me give you the little jolt. No, that'll never do, replied Carol, let's draw straws, the short one sits on it. As you might expect, 1 got the short one. I gingerly took the required posi- tion not knowing when to expect the jolt. I sat very, very lightly on that cushion with my hands on the edge and ready to jump off. Wham! I caught that jolt right where I sit down, and boy, did it tingle! Owooooooooooo, came from me as I lit on the ground about ten feet from the cushion. Say, Carol, I've taken 100 volts in the hand many a time, but that was nothing compared to what I just took from that cushion, and I wasnyt kidding him either, l carried a red spot on my leg for several days where I sat on that pipe. Oh, yes, to be sure, I hung one on Carol before an hour was up when he absent- mindedly sat down after waiting on a customer. VVe had a great deal of fun out of this idea until a friend got mad and tore the wires lose after we had shocked him. ....,,.-.,i,4.i-- Joy BY CORRINE AIAEXANDER There is the garden at dawn The flowers awaking, Each is glorious with dew, Joy in the making. There are the trees in the wind Their swaying is free. A bird is giving his song His gay trill calls me. There are the far misty hills That remain unmoved. A green valley in between By a stream is grooved.

Page 16 text:

14 THE Qlillil. The Cruel Critic OT IIO! The life-guards! Here we are again, folks! Bigger and better than ever! Get out the sponges. You 'll need 'em after reading Hliemodeled in Vain. For the tears will come, shed them where you will. Page Priscilla W'ayne5 we need some ad- vice. Fan you imagine doing a reverse on your personality, falling heir to bli37,000. and still losing your one and only? The worm will turn, but it hasn't anything on our Remodeled Suitor. Ah, well, good old Santa came anyhow, riding on the silver lining behind the dark cloud of gloom. Joy, Miriam li'iefer's little poem, touches the right spot. l'hristmas will bc Uhristnias. The rustic bells ring, The gay children sing. W'e all like our presents so fine, so fue: When pop secs the bill, lIe'll uialfe out his will, For papa is Santa Ulausf- Oh, shoot! We eonldntt think of a word to rime with Hfinef' but we do feel sorry for the head of the household at this time of the year. Ach, du lieber Augustine! Hoch der Kaiser! or something else Hollandish! Maxine Uonkwright must have been born with a pair ot' wooden shoes on her feet, at least. Such a Dutchman, but you ean't really blame him with those children. Does experience teach a dear school? Klieg pardon, is our quota-tion correet?j lioy-o-boy-o-boy-oi-boy.l lVe're tallring about The Perfidy of Womanf' Come all ye disillusioned nien if ye want to hear the story of a brace gentleman who is not afraid to ery out in his anguish. Delnier, we were curious to lfnow whether lhose wrinkles in your manly brow were caused by study or sorrow. Since perus- ing the tragic recital of your bitter, ah, bitter, bitter experiences, we know that you hare been in the depths of despair. I am not afraid to die. but I regret that I have only one life to give for my country. Like Esther of old, who pled with the king for the lives of her captive tribesmen, a new Esther arises to the glorious defense of womanhood. Esther had hardly finished the reading of Del- mer's stirring tirade when she called, Where's a pencil Get me some paper. A ream! Two reams! Yea, maybe three reams! Mr. Stratton reached in his vest pocket. Ile pulled out his trusty Eversharp. Ile put it back in his pocket and pulled out a pencil of the 5-for-a- nickel variety. You see, he knows the ways of the QVILL staff. Then Esther began to write. She may be writing yet. We don 't know. But we grabbed off the first two scorching sheets before they burned up, and here they are, a reply to Delmer. VVhat do you think ol Both of them can't be right, can they? Or can they? Francis Shaw has a funny idea of fun. lVe think there are enough electric chairs in the world without inrenting new ones. Oh, well, boys will be boys. Poetry! A rhythmical outlet for the emotions of human beings. VVe're rather proud of our poems in this issue. Any- body can write jingles, but not poems. Il'e thought the day of the limerick had passed. Not so! That five line stanza with the whip-cracker conclusion still knocks 'ent off. If you donit like our limerielrs, bring your copy of the QUILL baelf to Editor Shower, and he'll stick: his hand down deep in the pocket ii which he keeps his 'money-and tell you he is sorry. Tl12ll7S all. Still keeping those New Year's resolutions? No, we aren 't either Tin: Eorroks.

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