McKendree University - McKendrean Yearbook (Lebanon, IL)

Page 27 text:

McKENDREE YEAR BOOK 25 Prophecy of the Class of 1914 By Mabel Crump Since this hard task was given me, To write the Senior prophecy, I hied me to Apollo ' s home And there high in a lofty dome I looked into a crystal well. And what I saw, to you I ' ll tell. First, right before my gleaming eyes, A face looked up in glad surprise. The fK rm, I saw, was sadly bent As the long hours in toil were spent. I asked, Sir, what is that you do? Said he, From doughnut ' s holes I chew. ' Who was the man you ask of me! Old Bob Peters you may see. Next I beheld a circus ring. With girls and clowns who dance and sing. And walking on a tight-rope there. Was Bemice Wait, I do declare. Whom next do you suppose I saw, Afar from native home and ma, A ' teaching little heathen girls? Miss Berry ' s face, all framed in curls. Along a stream my gaze now strayed — There stood a man, his clothes all frayed. And as a means of livelihood This man caught bull frogs as the could. His name — I tell it you with pain — Boy Deffenbaugh, our German Swain.

Page 26 text:

24 THE McKENDREAN

Page 28 text:

26 THE McKENDREAN Then there was Tommie Brewbaker I saw him still in search for ' her ' Whom he should choose to be his wife To love ' him, cherish him thru life. A wonder now I will relate, ' Twas surely wrought by hand of fate; Tho strange it seems, believe it true — Mrs. Wiggins ' face came into view. I heard her singing wondrous grand, They say her voice has stirred the land. Miss Sarah Verla Giles, poor soul, A sorry part will be her role; An old, old maid she ' s doomed to be. Who loves her cat and drinks her tea. Presented next unto my sight, Was one who early took his flight Away from joys of single life, And took unto himself a wife. But there I saw him plowing com Until Old Gabriel blew his horn. Pray guess his name, it won ' t be hard — Tis Milton Hartman, our old pard. Upon a form I soon did gaze Which walked about, as in a daze. It wondered ' round in the debris, And sadly, wildly looked at m-e. Explosions there had been, you see, A total nervous wreck was he. With sorrow listen to his name, Poor Ivan Moorman, seeking fame.