Momence High School - Monesse Yearbook (Momence, IL)

Page 15 text:

FLOY BROWN. MARIE PARISH. ORATORICAL AND DECLAMATORY CONTESTANTS. HALLIE SELBY. FRANK VANINWAGEN. SERINA JOHNSON. GILBERT WILLIS. VIOLA CHIPMAN. EDWARD CLEARY. VIRGIE TABLER. MARIE WENNERHOLM.

Page 14 text:

JUNIOR CLASS. VIRGINIA C. TABLER. S. JAY GARRETT. JESSIE M. GARRETT. HALLIE A. SELBY. NINA PISH. LOLA M. VANE. STELLA DWYER.

Page 16 text:

JUNIOR junior Class Seng. Tune, “Just One Girl.” Maybe you’ve noticed the Juniors, Noble class—that’s my class— With only one boy to six maidens, Only one—let that pass; These girls look contented and happy, Ask them why—hear them say, “You may laugh if you please at the Juniors, But there’s no other boy like Jay.” Chorus, Just one boy in this school for us, You may laugh if you please, And make all sorts of fuss; Big, strong, and tall, He’s a match for you all— We are suited exactly, with just one boy. Other classes have all sorts of trouble 1 With their boys, so they say; The girls say they’re ugly and stubborn, ’Less each one has his way, But no matter what plan we girls get up, Grave or bright, sad or gay, We’ve only one boy to manage, And he’s very good—that’s Jay. Chorus. Now maybe you Freshmen,and Seniors, Since you’ve heard what I say, Will be wanting to trade with us Juniors, But no, thanks—not today; You may brag of your gentleman members, Dark and light, grave and gay, But we girls feel contented and happy, We each own one-sixth of Jay. Chorus. BOOK .3 Cy C ' iolin. Dedicated to Miss May Culver, When the days, are drear and the atmosphere Seems weighted down with dread, And the clock’s slow beat seems the tread of feet In a funeral march for the dead, To an old, old friend my ear I bend For the solace my heart would win; There’s rest for me and comfort free Ill the tone of my violin. When the days are bright and the glad sunlight Of hope my spirit cheers, When my heart’s aglow with the joy I know And I bid farewell to fears, This same old friend its voice will lend To tell how the glad days spin, And sing with me in its merry glee— My dear old violin. Tho’ my way be ’lorn as a winter’s morn Or gay as a day in June, Through my pathways wind I always find With my life it keeps in tune; So, whether I smile at bright fancy’s wile Or grieve for the “might have been,” I’ll turn to you—friend, tried and true— My best.loved violin. —M. G.