Maroa Forsyth High School - Trojanaire / Maronois Yearbook (Maroa, IL)

Page 20 text:

eee aD An 20h aa O is for Out, which we will soon be, Then the teachers, will shout with glee. P is for Parlier whom we thot was best, But she’ll soon settle down and feather her nest. Q is for quizzes, which McKee gives us hot, Sometimes we pass but usually not. R is for Russell the boy from the farm, He came to town but did no harm. S is for Smart, Tubby for short, When he misses a ball he sure does snort. Tis for turning point in our career, But as we turn we have nothing to fear. U is for Universal suffrage and peace, To which we agree or McKee would not teach. V is for vexed which our teachers become When we insist on having some fun W is for Westbrook. and also for Wayne, Lelia is wild but Wayne is quite tame. X is for Xerses and much fame is won He should have belonged to the ‘‘twenty-ones.’’ Y is for Yutch Waldo’s his real name, When he leaves Maroa High he’ll rise to much fame. Z is for Zero of which we have none. ; But Miss Shipley says she’ll sure give us one.

Page 19 text:

Ee lyin le 0s Levey Oe toa SENIOR ALPHABET A is for Alfred, with hair so black, He once got zero for talking back. B is for Bolen, lazy as fun, Who’s always tickled when his work is done. C is for Crocker, our famous athlete, He is known to perform most any fete D is for Dignity, of which we are blest, Because we know all Seniors are best. E is for Edna her last name’s McKee, . She’s a teacher alright, but she’s from Kankakee. F is for Fremon, our basket ball guard, And when he hits ’em he hits ’em hard. G is for Geometry, solid and plane, We have eight boys and just five dames. H is for Heck, a teacher so rare, When it comes to cooking she’s right there. T is for Irene, Chandler of course, At the basket ball games she yells ’till she’s hoarse. J is for Jupitor, guess if you can, He was with us when we staged the ‘‘Poor Married Man.” K is for Kling, demure and sincere, If she can’t get her lessons she sheds a wee tear. L is for Lyman, the Masterson boy, In working he always finds very much joy. M is for Miller, the governess so fine, She’ll be a nurse if you’ll just give her time. N is for noisy—who? the cooking class. If they don’t cut out the racket they never will pass.

Page 21 text:

Be SAN ae On IX SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY Unluckily, I had the misfortune to die at the age of thirty. I was among the first to pass away of the mighty class of ’21. After a few months I was permitted to enter into the pearly gates. Of course, I at once demanded my wings, but Saint Peter said, that before I could obtain these I must first spend at least three years in the ‘‘closed courts’’ in repentance for hypno- tizing my English teacher. After a slight remonstrance I reluctantly followed old Saint Peter toward the scene of my next three years. Just as we were about to enter into the gates of the ‘ Closed Courts’? I was tapped on the shoulder by a sentry and quickly wheeling around I came face to face with my old classmate, Thomas Crocker. Of course, i at once asked him, what he was doing there. He replied with a sigh that while traveling over the Rocky Mountains in his new Cadillac aeroplane, he had gotten on the wrong aerial road and was forced to make a landing near the gates of the ‘‘Closed Courts.’’ He was noticed by the officers and was given a job as sentry of the ‘‘Courts.’’ Saint Peter then commanded that I follow him further into the ‘‘Courts,’’ and about the first place we went from there was to luncheon. Here as we were being served I happened to glance up, and saw Ruth Parlier waiting on tables. Of course I asked her what she was doing there but she meekly replied that she had come with Thomas in his Cadillac. Drearily the three years passed and I was at last freed from the ‘‘Closed Courts’’ and presented with my wings. I was warned that I should not get too near the earth, but I promised that I would not, and I was permitted to leave the kingdom of Heaven for a forty-eight hour leave. As I neared the earth, one of the first things that I noticed was a little country church yard, wherein was being conducted a funeral. I ventured to get close enough to the churchyard to hear the minister deploring the death of Waldo Montgomery who had been killed while having a skillet fight with his beloved wife who was once Miss Lelia Westbrook, because he had come in late from playing golf. Next, as I soared on over my old place of habitation my eye fell upon Yale Col- lege and whom should I see but Irene Chandler instructing a class in Italian. She had