Iowa Wesleyan College - Croaker Yearbook (Mount Pleasant, IA)

Page 200 text:

 C S '( ,Cv •S r THE BRYAN CLUB (The Mournfully Melancholy Mob of those who also ran) Graduate Member Sowers Hendrickson Goehring POGE MILLER Claudius Kief Hayes Active Members Druse Duncan Hileman Seeley Departed Member Jas. Wilson Lodwick E. Wilson Gabeline Mr. Burns: “Did you read in the papers about the lower birth rates?” Mrs. Burns: “That will be good for traveling salesmen.” Inquisitive Freshie: “What book helped you most last year?1 Wise Soph: “Dad’s check book.” ’TIS TRUE A little co-ed now and then Is relished by the best of men.” DON’T MENTION IT Nell Jacobs: “Pardon me for walking on your feet.” F. Hagie: “Oh, that’s all right, that’s what I use them for myself.

Page 199 text:

WHISTLES V-xi ? r 7 f . | 5 | When any small boy whistles, ’Mid the clover or the thistles, Or on the crowded thoroughfare as well, We hear him for his heart’s in rhyme, He’s been to the Princess or Pastime, And we note the strains of that old song, “Blue Bell.” He gives “Moonlight” all anew, “Making Eyes” and “Tammany,” too, “I’ll Be Waiting in the Gloaming, Sweet Genevieve.” “Miss Phoebe Snow of Buffalo,” “My Baby of the Bungalow,” “Take Me to Your Heart Again,” ’most any eve. “Coax Me,” “Alabama Blossom,” “Teasing,” “Niggah Loves His Possum,” “You Mustn’t Pick the Plums from My Plum Tree,” “Will the Angels Let Me Play?” “Where the Colorado Wends Its Way,” “You’re the Sweetest Flower That Grows in Tennessee.” “I Long to See You Once Again,” “Mandy Lou” or “Maggie Flynn,” “Where the Sunset Turns the Ocean’s Blue to Gold,” “Agnes,” “Dreaming, Love, of You,” “Tell Me Will My Dreams Come True?” “You’ll Want Someone to Love You When You’re Old.” But the warblings have ceased And our memories released Revert to “The Dear Old Home Down on the Farm,” And our stomachs they do ache For our mother’s johnny-cake “Back ’Mid the Clover and the Corn.” Selected

Page 201 text:

Z X % y' ' r $ fi p !;!' mu !HI ml m . ■'....Vv. When the leaves begin to fall, And the woods is full of campfires, With the picknickers and all, I taik my gal to football games, With a pennant on my arm, And I got to cuddle up reel close To keap my cumpny warm. 1 like to fuss in winter, When the snow is on the ground, And the rodes is good for sliddin, And thiar skatin on the pond. We make candy in the kitchen And pop-corn balls and all, Then we leave about ten thirty And beat it for the Hall. 1 like to fuss in springtime, When the sky gits clear and bloo, And the grownd squrls come a-crawlin out And the robin hops round in the doo. I taik my gal to ball games, And watch the athultes so grand A sweatin on the diamond, With us shiverin' on the stand. J like to fuss in summer, In the shaid of the campus pines, And let Prof. Edwards chase himself, With his kilograms and dines. Yes, I luv to fuss in summer And, come to think it thru, 1 like to fuss most ennytime. Now, on the dead, don't you? ' ...v v- .X f v '