Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania - Record Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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MISS LYDIA MCCAW, R. N. Former Night Superintendent To Miss lVlcCaw In the early hours of another day, Ere the city was guilded by the daWn's first ray, In our silent Watch in this house of pain, Coaxing life and health and love again, There would come as a glow of rosy light A counsellor and guide from the depths of the night. We would tell all our problems, our troubles, our trials, She would lecture our mistakes, for the r-est we got smiles. ln memories of training, We can still hear the sounds Of Welcome footsteps approaching as lVIiss lWcCaw made her round 62

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Next little Frances from Buckingham drifted in, She owns a Ford Roadster, and decided young chin. She has a big f'Bill, who sails in the air, She thinks pale green goes Well with her hair. Then came Louise VVest from Erin's green shore, If We thought there Were more like her, vve'd send there for more But when she makes up her mind, she Wants her ovvn was You can argue With Westie till the close of the day. Then from Maryland my lVIaryland, comes big Julia Jones She's a handsome example of flesh and bones. We certainly missed her while she was avvay, And when she returned, 'tvvas a Red Letter Day. Then arrived a gay pair, Misses Martin and Dick, To separate the pair, We have not learned the trick. Lydia shines in Clinic, Dick can make lemon pie, The thoughts of its excellence, I resign with a sigh. Then comes old Stammie, near the foot of the Class, But that's the more reason We can't let her pass. She's only one failing, for it has been said, She looses her shoes-purse-and all-but her head. Then comes little Riddy, who hasia man on the sea, They say she is as faithful as a female can be. Sh-e's not the only one Who loves o'er the sea, There's Collie, Cecile, Frantzie, Cooper and Bea. Then comes our baby, the clever Lucile, When it ,comes to big words, Well, that child she can speel She writes like a fine hand, and recites like a book, lf you wish a precocious child, as Mick, take a look Dear Class of '18, as I close these poor rhymes, I think of our troubles, our work, our good times. I think of our future, Where duty may call, l can only say Good Luck, and '4God Bless You All 61

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