German Township High School - Laureola Yearbook (McClellandtown, PA)

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 Junior poem -------0-------- There came to school three years ago, The Class of ’Seventeen, But soon we’ll be about to go. This Class of ’Seventeen. We’ll linger here just one more year. May those who follow still revere, , The Class of ’Seventeen. When we have left this dear old school The Class of 'Seventeen, And passed beyond the teacher’s rule, The Class of ’Seventeen, May all our futures still be bright. And every one turn out just right. This Class of ’Seventeen. We struggle here with high intent. The Class of 'Seventeen. A few perhaps on mischief bent. The Class of 'Seventeen. Yet at our parting each will say, “Farewell.” lor all must part today. The Class of 'Seventeen. May none be found who duties shirk, In Class ot 'Seventeen. We served the school in good hard work, The Class of 'Seventeen. In grateful praises let us show Our love has never ceased to grow. The Class of 'Seventeen We wish our school-mates happy days. The Class of 'Seventeen. And hope that they can ever praise. The Class of 'Seventeen. Our pieseirt virtue we decry, For soon we’ll have to say “Good-Bye, The Class of 'Seventeen. When Father Time rolls up the year. The Class of ’Seventeen, The eye now dry may press a tear, The Class of 'Seventeen. When other classes nrngle here. We’ll hold our High School just as dear, The Class of 'Seventeen. —SARAH M. DEARTH 2S.

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uni or Sang --------O-------- 1. The Purple and the White we'll aloft our flag we’ll raise, We’ll sound our shouts and sing our songs. Our class to ever praise. CHORUS. Then hail to the Purple and White boys, The colors we love so well, Thy loyal sons now salute thee As thy folds on the breezes swell, Then hail to the Purple and White boys. Thru day and thru the night May the flag of nineteen seventeen live The Purple and the White. 2. Let every heart with joy be filled Our love for thee we sing For thee, dear class of seventeen Thy praise shall ever ring. 3. Let waive thy colors ever bright. To thee we’ll ever lean We’ll do our duty man by man For thee old seventeen. 4. Long live old class of seventeen Live long in truth and might As long our love for thee shall live Dear Class of Purple and White. —MABEL TAYLOR. w. ]HL DENTIST Masontown, Pa. Bell Phone 64 27.

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Jifflaal ,—± ±—$—t—] HORNETS. (By: “Bill Nye”) Last fall I desired to add to my rare collection a large hornet’s nest. I had an embalmed tarantula and her porcelian-lined nest, and I desired to add to these the gray and airy house of the hornet. I procured one of the large size, after cold weather, and hung it in my cabinet by a string. 1 forgot about it until spring. When warm weather came something reminded me of it; 1 think it was a hornet. He jogged my memory in some way, and called my attention to it. Memory is not located where I thought it was. It seems as though whenever he touched me he awakened a memory,—a warm memory, with a red place all around it. Then some more hornets came and began to rake up old personalities. I remember that one of them lit on my upper lip. He thought it was a rosebud When he went away it looked like a gladiolus bulb. I wrapped a we: sheet around it to Lake out the warmth and reduce the swelling, so that 1 could get through the folding doors, and tell my wife about it. Hornets lit all over me, and walked around on my person. I did not dare to scrape them off, because they were so sensitive. You have to be very guarded in your conduct toward a hornet. 1 remember once while I was watching the busy little hornet gathering honey and June-bugs from the bosom of a rose, years ago, 1 stirred him up with a club, more as a practical joke than anything and he came and lit in my sunny hair; — that was when I wore my own hair—and he walked around through my gleaming tresses quite a while, making tracks as large as a water-mellon all over my head. If he hadn’t run out of tracks my head would have looked like a load of summer squashes. I remember I had to thump my head agains; the smoke-house in order to smash him; and I had to comb him out with a fine comb, and wear a waste-paper basket two weeks for a hat. Much has been said of the hornet; but he has an odd, quaint way after all, that is forever new. 29