Fairbury Cropsey High School - Crier Yearbook (Fairbury, IL)

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Friends The ways of man are many, But the ways of wisdom few; We cater to our “sunshine friends” And ignore the ones of truth. For the passing stranger Any favor we might do; But the ones who really love us We cast aside for someone new. We rarely raise a finger To help our troubled friends But when it’s we who need the help We’re quick to run to them. When there’s fun and parties And laughter to be had, We oft forget our dearest friends And rally ’round the bad. But when the fun is over, And there’s trials to go through You’ll find your real and honest friends Have not forgotten you. BERNIECE M. BILLS. A Wide in the Wain Twinkle, twinkle, little star. We went riding in Freed’s old car; Because outside it was raining, From the roof the water was draining. Freed and Bess both got wet, But I got wetter, that I’ll bet. When we reached our destination. We weren’t fit for the visitation; But out of the car we did wade. Looking worse than the last air raid. Now if you don’t believe my report, What do you think made Bess’s head warp? DICK DEPUTY. History Workbook We had a little workbook, Just seven and a half by nine; In color it was orange and blue, And wras due most all the time. It took up too many moments To do it as we should; Mr. Thompson didn’t notice, So we copied if we could. Now, freshmen, sophomores and juniors, The time is coming for you To struggle over that workbook Of beautiful orange and blue. VELMA RANGE. History Class History Class is dull, they say, But to me it is a bore; I try my best in every way, But still it’s quite a chore. Maybe I’m dumb, maybe I’m lazy; I can’t get this stuff; I think it’s all crazy, For all of it’s rough and plenty tuff. My case is hopeless, that I see; I know I’m bound to flunk; My grades are all below an E, Again I say—it’s bunk! DUMB STUDENT. On Priority fie picked her up and held her near, To part with “Jenny” he could not bear. Once she had been young and full of life; She had been to him more than a wife. And now he had taken her life away. She was gone not, forever; to stay. To all his pleas she would not respond; Of no other he could ever be fond. Now with his ax he had cut her in half; His life was gone, he could never laugh. Another like “Jenny” was not for hire, Alas, he had ruined his last white-wall tire. CARNELL STRODE. An Apology Once there was a girl named Bet Who wrote a poem so dire. It was about a man named Verne, And did arouse his ire. This poem did deal with things of love, And Verne, he did object— An upstart student, to write this stuff, On that, of all, subjects. What can I do, Miss Bet did cry, To show I didn’t mean it. She wrote a poem, an apology, And this, my friends, is it. For, after all, she did not know That he’d so much object. When she wrote a poem on love— Yes, that of all subjects. BETTE NEUMANN. 21

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gorgeous head of natural blonde hair to Marion Somerville. T, Bette Neumann, do hereby state (quote) I don’t want to leave anythng to anyone because Frank Merrill didn’t and I do want to be so much like him. (un- quote.) I, Rose Noble, will my ability to flirt with all the boys in school and out of school to one who might find it helpful, Florence Sutter. I, Francis Paternoster, would like to leave my ability to make love to the freshman girls to Charles Miskell but under the cir- cumstances I think I’ll keep it. I, Irma Peter, willingly give four inches oft my skirt to one who is in dire need of material for skirts, Rose Torch. I, Virgil Price, feel so badly about leaving this institution that somone had better will me a few handkerchiefs to shed my tears in. I, Velma Range, leave my so- phisticated wobble and morning- after expression to Lois N’cwnam. I, Donald Schwarzwalder, leave to Virgil Travis my unscrupulous methods of luring girls into going with me. I, Francis Scouler, leave unhesi- tatingly, and also I leave my So- ciology book to the other unfor- tunate expellents of F’.nglish IV in need of a credit. I, LaVonne Stiver, leave my True Story Magazine and idoli- zation of “Ty” Power to Miss Whitford with the hope that she will cherish them as 1 have. I, Carnell Strode, bequeath upon Olive James my technique of ensnaring upper classmen with the hope she will profit as I did (?). I, George Thomas, bestow upon my brother Charles the old Thom- as axiom, “Never put off until to- morrow that which you can evade altogether.” I, Marilyn Thompon, having completed my term, have nothing to leave as Chuck graduated ahead of me. I, Goldie Travis, leave my strong bold ways and overpower- ing oral faculties to that naive, quiet-voiced James Watson. I, Alberta VonBergen, leave James Hurt (darn it!) I, Bob Wharton, having given four years of my life in active service at F. T. H. S. and never having been guilty of a misdemea- nor, leave my spotless reputation, a box of thumb tacks and one rub- ber band to Bob Ziegenhorn. I, Marjorie Williamson, leave to my little (but not belittled) sister my ability to stay blond. I, Francis Winterland, leave my snappy comebacks at Hamman and one half-smoked White Owl to any one who has nerve enough to face Hamman and is man enough to finish smoking my cigar. I, Lillian Woodard, leave to Jo Thompson my love for the Thomases. I, Pauline Zimmerman, be- queath to that forthcoming “deb” Ella Balder, one cake of mascara and one tube of “Savage Red.” ¥ 20

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Farming Deputy's Advice My teacher done told me When in History class To study my History Till nine was half past. But who’ll study History In the house at night, When you can be out lovin’ In the bright moonlight. The first six weeks found me Putting my plan into effect; The second six weeks found me Still receiving heck. My grades started with B’s, But downward they went; Because all my time With her I had spent. Came the end of the semester; My exams did appear. And my girl didn’t help me. As you shall hear. The first group was easy, For they were full of blanks; But the rest really stumped me. And to my girl, no thanks. When my grade I did hear I shouted, “Ye gods!” For an E did appear. And boy, was I mad! Now, who shall we blame, The teacher or me; I say the teacher, The teacher says me. You students in History, Take my advice: Do not skip your studies For a gal pretty and nice. RAYMOND BESS. Lament Dream over hope, With a dream on top; I built my castles high, Then you in one devastating sweep Erased them from the sky. And there they lay upon the ground All crumpled in a heap— Those hopes and dreams All built so high Are lying at my feet. I never thought your love for me So soon would disappear; Nor did I think my heart could be So full of doubt and fear. It could’ve been no other Who dealt the cards that day, than Fate Who turned my sunshine into rain And the blue of the sky to gray. BERNIECE M. BILLS. At the price of corn today I can’t see why more of the Fairbury Township High School students aren’t millionaires. This doesn’t include me, however, for I have fallen by the wayside and become one of the corn shellers. This corn I’m referring to is not an agricultural crop but is the name for poor jokes, and if I am any judge of jokes, about half belong to this class. For an example of corn I refer you to this one: What did one ear say to the other ear? Answer: It’s funny we’ve never met before. We both live on the same block. Humor is a great aid to the world. I admit this, but I have a feeling that “corny” humor is its downfall. Even today when the world is in a terrible war, some individuals still practice corny humor. A very serious sailor who was on guard on the deck of a ship came running to the captain all out of breath and barely panted. “The enemy is coming as thick as peas; what shall we do?” The captain being of the corny class, replied, “Shell ’em.” There is no cure for corny humor ei- ther. Once you become a corn seller, there is no way to get out of its reach. I’ve tried desperately to keep from laughing at these corny jokes, but soon- er or later you must laugh. For one such joke I remember. I just held my nose and didn’t crack a smile. But later I thought of it and laughed. It seemed the joke was about a salesman who went into a store. A young clerk came up and asked if he could help him. The salesman explained his business and asked if he knew where the buyer was. The young clerk replied, “No, I don’t know where the buyer is, but the ‘seller’ is downstairs.” It takes an intelligent and very alert person to catch on to this corny humor, but just the same I’ll say you're better off if you ignore these jokes and those who tell them. This information I have given you is, however, strictly on the side because I would hate to be ignored by my friends. 22 DICK DEPUTY.