Eastwood High School - Gazette Yearbook (Edmonton, Alberta Canada)

Page 36 text:

34 E.H.S. YEAR BOOK The Graduates, 1933 Suzanne comes to us from the Separate High, Wc like her French accent, it suits her bright eye; On the tick of the bell she enters the room, We’re sure she’ll be late on the last day of Doom. We know that our Dorothy, good little soul, Just swims in curricula, side-strokes to her goal; She knows what she’s after, the Knights always do. We paddle in circles, blow bubbles, and chew. This is Stanley the stalwart, impossible name Of Krezanoski, it amounts to the same; He’s keen on the papers, collects them when through, And sifts all the matter, the false from the true. When Lambertson marched into Room Twenty-two, He stole as a Ray from out the deep blue; We put him through prisms to find out his tints, No yellow we found, not even a wince. up Now look at our Clara, she sits in the front ’Neath the eye of the teacher, hears his groan and his grunt; Now she straps the young rascals who go to her school. Laskiwski her pen-name, you spell it by rule. Now Jo is the third in a series of three, Quadratic in kind, a square that suits me; Deep blue in her eye, far deeper the glance, Jo Leslie has vowed to beat Ignorance. Alone on the prairie where men are just men, There’s Betty Lloyd-Jones, in a Post Office den; Sells stamps and takes letters, seals bags with red wax, She’s a tactful young lady, her mail is in sacks.

Page 35 text:

E.H.S. YEAR BOOK 33 The Graduates, 1933 Here’s Harry named Aubrey, or Aubrey named Harry, So speedy in Maths, that his triangles marry; An angular union, acute in advance, For Harry like Cupid, shoots just for Romance. And Hawkes, like the airman, flies up in defiance, He tail-spins through Latin, and banks round his Science; Sure Harold’s a rare flier, where’er studies flash, He’ll nose-dive through problems, and end in a crash. Here’s Bessie the plodder, turns back in her tracks, Makes up in her homework what in classroom she lacks; I see her still shining, a lone prairie star, Still plodding Life’s pathway, as the best of us are. Here’s Holmgren, called Ernie, a boy of good sense, He’ll share all his fun, if the fun be in tents; Subdued in the classroom, outside he’s a lion, Aggressive enough, to take any guy on. Just pause for a while, we see Horace Horne, Adept in persuasion as any yet born; School president he, a mover of motions, The pilot of Eastwood o’er high school’s dark oceans. Some boys are so eloquent, speaking by hands, And Howard’s a semaphore, just where he stands; By words of one syllable, language he saves, His comps, are in motions, his jokes come by waves. And now I am sure no tongue could refuse, To give all that is coming to dark Rita Hughes; So fair in her speech, in moderns so bright, She has one philosophy, find out what is right.

Page 37 text:

E.H.S. YEAR BOOK 35 The Graduates, 1933 Now Frances Pattullo, serene and demure, Sings daily for pastime, a voice sweet and pure; She’ll weather Depressions, and longer than that, She sings in the Glee Club, and never sings flat. Up Goliath the Philistine, Olson for short, Has made a fly-swatter, fly swatting’s his sport; He got it from David, who made him a sling, He scores on the fly, but not on the wing. up Now Blodwen named Morris, she’s Welsh to the bone, Ac I fi, she’s A Briton, her Accents her own; She likes Lloyd and Llan gollen, Llewellyn and Gwynne, For there’s ‘L’ in her speech, she wears her words thin. Here’s Catherine Morgan, most comfortable girl, Would quiet a cyclone, or any big swirl; So even in temper, we think she would make The frantic grow calm, in any earthquake. And David the Second now skates into ken, He’s good with the puck as the Eskimo men; Moran has a liking for honey and cheese, We see him a farmer, with cattle and bees. And Ken is another, A Mitchell that’s squared. Has parts that would make a North British laird; His accent alone is not unlike plaid, When he comes in the room, you think there’s a raid. Jack Mitchell is shy, but has plenty of sand, His knowledge will grow if you feed him by hand; We think there’s a place in Post Office employ, He’d make a good sorter, knows gold from alloy.