Lutesville High School - Cardinal Yearbook (Lutesville, MO)

Page 25 text:

o • o o MY DERE MR. CENETER REDE:;—I thout you mite wont one of our mannuals cauze we air goin to have our pixtures (or pitchers ruther) in them and tha dont costez but sebenty five cence and I think hitt will have a couple of jokes in hitt;: Now if you want som. Thin funny and entertainin yu had betterd taken siveral on them. I am goin ter take one. I dun brot my sebenty five sents and gived hitt to Mildred, and she gived hitt to Miss Murfy. Say, Ceneter, they du say as that you oppose the Lege of Nashuns. Now, Ceneter, old Bill Kizer dun the identity and old Bill Kizer ntite enjy youre kumpny with him at his wouldpile in Hoi Land. You had better voat rite or we uns as is backin you up wont raise your seleree: Meldrit sets in front of me. She twistez the dest sos I caint wright heartily. I know you”ll” wont one of them mannuals. xxxxxxx By By Afextionatly OOOOOOOOO Becky Jane I fergot to tell you to tell precedent Wilcun we air makin some mannuals and he can by one if he wont hitt. You can tell him if you cee him in time. We had our pixtures tooked Friday and thewoman rung a bell. Judge air goin to hev his pixture in there too and Mr. Mires, and I mite put mine on the frunt page. I tell you, yu had better by one. Say,Ceneter, air you a Demo Krat or Republic “Kan.” Tell precedent Wilcun tha will have a couple jokes in un. I no he wood like to have 1 if he node about hitt.” 8|| xxxxxxxx oooooooo KO X O March 25 1919 A. D. (after dark). I must study my English lecun. Confextionatly Becky. THE MODERN RAVEN Kanto I Once, on a mid-day dreary, while I meandered, weak and leary. Over many a page of mathematical lore, In my seat I was nearly napping, when suddenly, I experienced a tapping, as if some one was none Too gently rapping, rapping on my belfry door. “ ’Tis imagination!” I muttered, “merely that and nothing more.” Kanto II But, Othen, the thrill grew stronger, hesitating, then no longer. “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly, truly, I implore, what have I done since rising sun, that you batter on my belfry door?” But the rapping, still beguiling my sad fancy, into smiling by the knocks and shocks which my anatomy bore, till I scarce thought I could stand it, so I opened wide the door was Miss Murphy and nothing more.

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Class Poem It is finished; our school work. Our four years’ task is done. The victory has been gained at last The price we sought is won. And now we meet to night A last farewell to speak To those dear friends of ours Whom we have loved to greet. Four years ago a freshman class. To the Lutesville High School came. Seekers after knowledge bright To add lustre to their name. And they gathered learned lore History, science, and math. The rule of three, and syntax too They swallowed with a laugh. They learned to keep on trying When things seemed hard to do. And they found a wise old maxim That your future depends on you. They found above all things, That on the final day That firm and honest character Are the only things that pay. So dear friends and classmates, As we say farewell tonight Let us all remember The true pathway of life. So when we pass from out this sphere Upon the other shore. The old friends of ’19 Will be a class once more. Maud Myers.

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Finis Here's to the Seniors, learned and prave; We part from them with sighs; Their task is done. Their victory won, To them we say pood-bye. Here’s to the Juniors, modest and true; To them we willinply bequeath; The laurels preat, Which surely await Those who take the Seniors’ enviable seat. Here’s to the Sophs, so pay and breezy; On them we lovingly bestow; A couple of knocks, And a score of shocks, When they take their seat on the Junior row. Here’s to the Freshmen, unsophisticated folk; To them we gladly give A bushel of cheer, Which they hold so dear, And a tenth-grade life to live. Here’s to our soldiers, brave and true; Who pave so splendidly and well; The world now knows What their valor does. Their pood deeds, victory spells. Here’s to all the High School folk; Who life’s battles have just begun; Let us all pray And fervently say (Like Tiny Tim) “God bless us every one.” —Thekla James. After Word The balmy, spring zephyrs blow from the Southland. To those who go and to those who stay they whisper: My Melody Borne over hill and dale, in thee, shall bring a thought of pleasure past, and of future preat. Anticipation mighty and memories sweet. To thee and thine.