Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

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THE ECHO 13 THE FLOOD One day a few short weeks ago While I was watching the flowers grow, I chanced to think of the middle west Where now a thousand dead do rest; Of the horror, the fear of that awful flood Which killed many men without spilling blood. How it grew so quickly, And poured so thickly O’er hills, valleys and small towns, How it came rushing and pouring down O’er every city and town For miles and miles around Oh ! how the water spread While the stricken fled From the places where they earned their daily bread. T ie Red Cross Corps their mercy plied, But even then some hundreds died. Oh ! God above, thy mercy give To those who in this area live. Jessie Beers, ’ 28 . MY SISTER’S BEAU My sister’s beau is tall and thin, I think his name is Beanpole Jim. They like each other mighty well And, gee, don’t sister think he’s swell. He dresses in a light tan suit Which every one thinks is surely a beaut. One Sunday when he came to tea, He really was a sight to see. He looked just like a fashion plate. Although he was a little late, My sister met him at the door, And looked at him three times or more. We fed him on the best of food And put him in a jolly mood. Then to my Pa he said so quickly “I’d like to marry your dear Nellie.” This Pa refused and home sent Jim While Nellie’s eyes were wet and dim So this is why Miss Nellie Haid Still remains the town’s old maid. Jessie Beers, ’ 28 . Our brave “Lucky Lindy” flew over the sea In his little air ship the St. Louie, He left us one early morning in May, And we waited and watched for news all that day. U. S. saw him when he left the ground And wished him success for his great big- bound For Lindy was courageous and daring and bold And would go against anything, even hun- ger and cold. IDEAL BASEBALL Waters slid into the plate, All safe he had no doubt, And then he heard the umpire state In growling tones, “You’re out!” He quickly scrambled to his feet; A roar came from the stands, And then — Waters smiled so sweet The umpire shook his hands. Then Hiltz walked into the box, And scanned the batters o’er. Then with his mighty arm he knocked I he batters out once more. Lucky Lindy” had the ocean well in his grip For he took not a soul with him on his trip He flew all night and the next day, too. And only he knew how fast he flew. When at last he finished his flight, He found Paris ablaze with light. The people were shouting and crying with At the great success of our big boy. 0 . ur Lindy has made a big sensation He has put a friendship betwee n two big nations. Something U. S. will put at the top, Our boy was the first to make the big hop. Pauline Blanchard, ’ 30 . Then Callahan strode up to the pan The pitcher hurled the ball, Callahan swung the mighty man, And socked it over the wall. And as he circled ’round the path, All knew the game was won. The pitcher laughed a hearty laugh As he knew it was a home run. Christina Callahan, ’ 30 . If you want to go to the kind of school Like the kind of school you like, You needn t slip your books in a grip And start on a long, long hike. You’ll only find what you’ve left behind, h or there s nothing that’s really new. Its a knock at yourself when you knock your school — It isn’t the school; it’s you. Maybelle Sears, ’ 28 .

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12 THE ECHO from his pocket) : Hm, Mrs. Hanson, Well, I hope she is easier than this one. (Enter Mrs. Mather with exact change, so she need not keep the agent any longer than necessary. Silently she hands it to him) . Agent (bowing his way out of the room) : I know you will be well satisfied. Let us know if you need any other books. Also you might- write us and tell us how you are enjoying your cook-book. Good day. (Mrs. Mather wearily sinks into the nearest chair after this trying ordeal : I wonder what my husband will say. Helen Gray, ’28. WHEN THE ENGINE STALLED One night as I sat on the edge of my bed, I began to think how wonderful it would be to be a boy. Boys could be tough and rough, but girls have to behave just so. All of a sudden I saw a light in the corner of my room. I opened my mouth to scream but no utterance came from my lips. The next thing I saw was a lady dressed in diamonds. She was the fairy of the spirits. At last my dream was fulfilled; she changed me into a boy. One wave of her magic wand and there I stood all dressed in boy’s shoes, stockings, trousers, shirt, and aviator’s cap. In return for this I had to take a human companion and go to the moon, bringing back with me some of the diamond crystals for her gown. I grabbed my fur coat, rushed out of the house, looked up and down the street, grabbed the first boy I met, and hurried into my back yard. There, floating on the empty air was an airplane, the shape of a crescent. I got in, pulled the somewhat astounded and astonished boy after me, and we were gone. After traveling for about thirty days, and I think seventy nights, we reached the planet known as the moon. I do not recol- lect what we ate on the way or how we managed the machine. I think it traveled by the spirits of the fairies and we lived on the empty air. The climate was very hot and I felt like a frying potato in the frying pan. My companion was too burned to speak and I couldn’t for lack of a tongue. The moon was inhabited by funny creatures that had about seventy legs and fifty eyes. There were a great many mountains made of sugar, and seas made of ink. I perceived a closed door and decided to investigate what was in back of it. Al- though this door was made of glass, my eyes could not see through it. We found we could pass through it; so we did. We went to the airplane, started the engine and then picked the crystals from the glass trees. Next we started home. But alas! What did we see — a great black pit beneath us. The engine stalled. Slowly, slowly we began to roll and coast toward the pit. Faster we went as we gathered speed. Thump, bump, bumpity, bump. I stared about me. Where on earth was I? I was recalled to my senses in a few minutes by my mother’s voice, calling, “Well, Hazel Tibbetts, what on earth are you doing? The idea of a girl as old as you falling out of bed!” Slowly and thoughtfully I crawled back to bed, saying, “That’s what happened when the engine stalled.” Hazel Tibbetts. THE SCHOOL MOUSE In a corner room of Sumner High Is heard a scratching near by The pupils are quiet, the way is clear, And bye and bye a mouse doth appear. It raids the basket by the door, It rattles papers on the floor; Till one of the Juniors, not afraid, Thinks he will end this serenade. He’s out of his seat in a gingerly way, Clutches the basket as mousie’s at play, And now with a bounce it’s into its house, But that’s not the end of the poor little mouse. It comes out each day, and has no fear Of the many people who are so near; Though with chocoate, its tempted, this mouse replies, “If kill is your motive, take someone your size. “I like in this room and here I’ll remain, You folks can move out if I drive you insane ; If one of your number should manage to kill, There are plenty of others who my place will fill”. Constance Brown, ’28. Father: “You look pale, son, what’s bothering you?” Gordon: “Rheumatism. We had it in spelling to-day and I spelled it wrong.”

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14 THE ECHO “IF” If you can bravely face each awful midyear And risk your chances on an earnest try And flunk, and still believe your teacher dear And never kick or even breathe a sigh, If you can make your brain work when you’re tired, And get that Math, and French, and Eng- lish, too, And ever though they leave your comrad mired, Don’t let that same fate get its hands on you, If you can talk to friends and be a true one, Or meet the principal and know him, too, If you can know that all your work’s well done And all you have belongs to only you, If you can fill each fleeting study period With forty minutes worth of knowledge won, Then yours is the school, and all you find in it, And what is more, you’ll graduate, my son. Elizabeth Fulton, ’28. THE MAN IN THE MOON Oh, the man in the Moon is a sailor man bold, A sailor man old and wise; And he steers his beautiful craft of gold Through billowy couldy skies. He pilots his bark the long night through And glides between planet and star, And he knows where the current runs swift and true And just where the cloud rocks are. Yo-ho! for the man in the Moon so bold. He’s a mariner old and wise Who pilots his precious bark of gold Through the blue and silver skies. Maybelle Sears, ’28. Do it today and it will be done. Do not wait for another one. For it will never come. Do it today. Do not wait until your friends come. Do it yourself and it will be done. Do not say, “I’ll do it later.” Do it today. It isn’t too early yet, Use your brains and do it today. Do not say my friends will help. Do it yourself. Do it today. Francis Mack, ’30. MY OPINION There is nothing that’s equal to sliding down hill. When boys are together, Hurrah for cold weather! There is nothing like sliding down hill! A good game of ball is a capital thing To keep up one’s spirits, I think, in the spring ; When the wind is just right I like flying a kite ; I would make no objections to owning a gun; And in going out rowing there’s plenty of fun, And then, fishing is jolly when the fishes bite — But to take the year through, let them say what they will. There is nothing that’s equal to sliding down hill! To birds of my feather. Hurrah for cold weather! There is nothing like winter And sliding down hill ! Stanley Salter, ’28. A LITTLE TREE Dear little tree that we see today, What will you be when we’re old and gray? “The savings bank of the squirrel and mouse, For robin and wren an apartment house, The dressing room for the butterfly’s ball. The schoolboy’s ladder in pleasant June, The schoolgirl’s tent in the July moon. And my leaves shall whisper then merrily, A tale of the children who planted me.” Helen Townsend, 27. SPRING We’re thinkink now of Spring so near, Although old Winter still is here But when the snow is off the track. Your coat can hang upon the rack. Just toss your hat out in the hall, Grab your sweater, and then, — play ball. Your arm will get all stiff and sore, But never mind, just ask for more. Go out and win the old broad jump, Land on your head and raise a lump, Get your rackets and tennis net. We’re out to win this year, you bet! The track is soft with mud, and wet; But just keep on, and we’re all set, Perhaps you think this is a dream, But just you watch our new ball team. Robert White, ’28.