Morristown High School - Cobbonian Yearbook (Morristown, NJ)

Page 29 text:

H COBBONIAN And thatte saine noble Garrette Byrnes, The thoughtful editor did choose To seke the schole, hir bends and turnes, And route hyni out ye byttes of neWes. And last of all, ye scarlette bard Syr Laurence, Was the poet chosen. The troubador's sad life is hard, He e'er hath patches in hys hosen. And to this valiant classe did falle, Alle victories bothe smalle and greate, Forre thei didde Wynne atte Basketballe, And thei didde conquire atte debate. And thusse the High Schoole yeeres doe end And glorious onne their Wai thei Wende. Forsoothe rnuch more mighte Wee endite, And manic ferlies myght Wee telle, Of menny a battel Worthie knyghte, And manie a lovely Demoiselleg And thys was Writ in yeere of grace Nineteen hondredde Twentye-Twoe, Inne Morristowne that lovlie place, The Wondres of the storie greweg And yt Was tellen Wythe muche moil, By ye gode knyghte of Cunninghame, To Which he reccomends hys toil, Your pleasure kynde, syr or madame, And yu verse by ye troubadour, That Syr Laurence De jordanne, For Which he asks no lesse no more Thanne grace frae Womanne and fro rrianne And our last plea in song or Word When Wee are layde down Wyth ye moles Sai forre ye sakke of ye blest Lord, A Requiescat for our souls. 21

Page 28 text:

H COBBONIAN Who natheles playeth a villaine, Ye giante Frederick known as Earle, Who ruleth alle menne by hys fyste, Dame Emylie Nappin, haughty girl, VVho be ye doughty Smythe is kissed. Syr Albert Thomson, flax-haired yowthe, Ye Ladye Elsie Chadwicke, who Isse wicked as a Witche forsoothe, -In thysse the play is far fromme true- Lord james of Carton, he who stands VVith eache fatte fyste behynde hysse bakke And Aggeness wyth folded hands, Who always eateth crackerjack. They chose moreover for their boke, To be yclept Cobbonian, Of various and divers folk, A great and motely caravan, Syr Franke De Roddler, edditor, Syr Robert Cunninghamme his adde, Syr Sheldon Scoble, manager, Wyth Pen ande Ynkhorne stout arraydeg Syr David Rubidge who doth wait To-followe Shelle Where'ere he turnes, A lorde as myghtye inne debate As thatte grimme peere, Syr Garrett Byrnes. Ye loveli ladey, Emylie, Syr Lorn MacDougall, Scottishe knighte, Ye Prophets of the classe do bee, Eache is a gode and wunderfulle wyghte. Syr Robert Cunninghamme, the manne Who leade debaters outte to warre, Ande thatte Syrre Laurence De Iourdanne, The crimson bearded troubadour, Were made hystoriannes of the classe To seke the annalls of the yeeres, Hir victories and defeates-alasse! To synge unto the dames and peeresg 20

Page 30 text:

THE COBBONIAN l922 Prophecy of the Class of 1922 ABRAM GUREVITZ Entering the great hinky dinky metropolis of McCarthyville in the borough of Eatontown, we were taken to Mayor Lane, otherwise known as the Woman's Home Companion, who with his honest bunch of crooks some- times called aldermen, consisting of Berkley Boniface, Charles Lee, Warren Mahoney, Henry McWhinney, and William Menagh, accompanied us first to Spingler's Meat Market, where he and Lackey Mainiero were assisted by Andy Nodoro and Frank Rodler in taking dew drops out of peppers with boxing gloves on. From there we were escorted by Police Sergeant Bockoven and his loving roughhouse squad, consisting of Wesley Thompson, Wilson Neill, Robert Smythe, and Arthur Chapman, to Marguerite Dooling's Manicuring and Shoe Shine Parlor. She was ably assisted by those incapable shine artists, Phyllis Azzarra, Beatrice Appleby, Lillian Baldwin and Anita Barrera. Hav- ing cleansed ourselves we repaired to Pete Searles' jazzem Dance Emporium. The main feature was that dancing demon, Cyril Whitehead. He was accom- panied by the Eczema Quartet, Helen Bagnall, Myrtle Beddow, Muriel Bown, and Dorothy Van Cleve which broke out in the song, entitled: I'd rather have two little girls of sixteen than one of thirty-twof' composed by that in- famous funeral Jazz Band, Shel Scoble, Robert Tiger, Garrett Byrnes, Robert Cunningham, and Fred Earl. After watching those undignihed dancing mas- ters, Dave Rubidge, jim Carton, and Carlton Yawger, strutting around, we went next door where we encountered Abe Gurevitz, Jake Kasdin, Ted Mintz, local merchant princes, selling paper stretchers. Further down the street Red Jordan was seen reciting that antiquated ballad, The tears rolled down his back so he got bacteria, to Liz Babbitt. For his poor showing he gave as an encore the great Shakesperian poem, They named the baby Rosy after her father's nose. Going back on the other side we stepped into the Wise Owl Publishing Co. At the editor's desk was Beat Niper writing on Why Gold Fish Should Not Be Put to Death With Thumb Tacksf' In the typing room Helen McDermott, Alice Morrison, and Theresa Naughton were racing to see who could turn out the most errors every 640 seconds. Also in this room were Marion Tiger, Margaret Sayre, Emylie Nappin, and Doris Boniface, cham- pion typists of Whippany River, who in the last contest broke four machines and no records. The unsophisticated lithographic staff, Vera Beston, Hilda Brook, Agnes Butera, and Elsie Chadwick were settingup that famous story, 22 if