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Page 50 text:
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lsi is g -THE sux'-r'z.z,tN--uir5J,te,N'r' ,gg 'Tis the end of a gruesome year, And means that at lust you are Seniors. As Seniors, we are made of the stuff That can withstand all kinds of weather, Our patients are sure of good workg Our college is sure of their profit. For we have paid in full The last great lump of tuition. Now 'tis a snap, it is soft, For to get by is the aim of the worthy. We are reverenced and honored by all. Oh, Gee! 'Tis iine as a Senior. Our tasks are as light as a stone Compared to what we feel like doing. 'Tis nothing but much over work, No one would think we were lazy. A Chemical Rhapsody Oh, come where the cyanides silently How, Where the carbonates droop o'er the oxides below, Where the rays of Potassium lay white on the hill And the song of the silicates never is still. Come! Oh, come, tum-titti-tum, Peroxide of soda and magnesium. While alcohol's a liquid at thirty degrees, And no chemical can act manganese, While alkalis flourish and acids are free, My heart shall be content, sweet science to thee, Yes, to thee, tiddle-de-dee, Sulphate of iron and HO plus C. Eow. C. KOHLMANN, 16. We are the great source at stake, Yea, men from all parts of the nation Call now upon us to display. As to them it seems a great pleasure- And lure us to buy of their goods At prices exorbitant and painful. Time has been pictured as Beet, ' But to us a snail moves much faster. At last through the channels, my boys, Through the channels of great privation, We have finished. Hurrah! I'm good cheer. We love thee, honor, and are thankful To those who have given us help, and taken our money. You have taught us much in the end. And now is our chance at the dollar. Willie from his mother's mirror Ate the mercury all off, Thinking in his childish error It would cure the whooping cough. At his funeral, Willie's mother Dryly said to Mrs. Brown, 'Twas a chilly day for William When the mercury went down. Little Willie's friends are weeping, For his face they see no more. What he thought was H20 Was HZSO4 Vrcrox Joann ALBERT J. WARBER
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Page 49 text:
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QUE Tears. snxfrnaaw HIQEQNT QD? C5 0 93 My son, mark the words of high wisdom As it exudes from the. mouths of thy teachers, Permit not temptation and lust To step between thee and the art of thy choosing Hold high in the mind of your soul Thy profession and those that will followg Lay low at the feet of the goddess The sacrifice which thou now must offerg Hold high in the mind of your friends The reward which comes with your diploma For thou hast now entered a career Which will test you through to the marrow, So be ready, and cheerful, and quick To respond to the work as it follows Crude technic and lectures, and such Will be naught in the face of dissecting- Brave hearts are those which endure The fumes as we rage o'er dead bodies, But fear not, for thy heart shall rejoice, At the secrets as they soon shall unravelg Keep uppermost now in your mind KNOWLEDGE-and think not of your poor stomachs, Lest with indignation and pain Shall be lost the meal of your last partaking Knowledge, my son, and sheer wisdom Are the source of the world and all in it. Feign not at the tasks at your hand. For 'tis only the choice of your choosing. Now this is a word of good cheer, And crude find I words to express it. But far be it from wrong If you know less in the end than beginning s You Flnd I But now that thou has finished thy task Brave fellows, we hope not to lighten Your burden-for thou art deserving, and faith 'Tis just, you get full worth of your money So pass these exams and it shall be The making of you into Juniors As Juniors, thou now shall deserve Great respect and honor of the Freshmen Now matters have been simplified- Thou hast naught to do'but to labor, Strive hard at the height of your speed, Lest technic and counts may overtake you. Thou now hast donned the white coats, Make sure that to wear them is useful. Be tender, respectful and kind, For the nerves of thy patients are awful. 'Tis wisdom and skill now, my son, Which come only through desperate efforts. Press hard to the head of your class, And be not lost by the wayside i Once more to dissect is your lot- And now 'tis a part of your nature, A hand that is cunning to carve- With a heart that has now been well tempered. Slash deep, for beneath it all lies Thy great aim and exalted ambition. Question not the uses of this, i ,Tis your's but to cut and to pay for.. Questions are the stock of a fool, And you are men of a profession, So now lay down your knife, For at last in great joy you have hnished.
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