North Georgia College - Cyclops Yearbook (Dahlonega, GA)

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Strickland Otherwise Dink. lirit litest student in the business class; only one in his class. Writes five hundred words per week in short- hand. Inill of ginger and phosphate. Knows all sorts of ways of jumping out of a window. Talks in his sleep and suffers from spasmodicea. Always sa}s the wrong thing at the right time. Great walker down Park street. Will stop at nothing in search of a good time. Feet are not mates. Has Cob-webs in his belfry. Invests in soda walker. then jerks it. Has tucker down to a finish. Dances like a war horse. Looks like a greasy streak of lightning. For agilit} ' and nerve he is a credit to the Senior Class. Loves all of his teachers, and is foolish over his business teacher. The first time he ever shaved was the night before Senior day ; the last time, can ' t sa) ' . B ows gracefully and is in a constant state of wiggle. Talks like a batter-cake, and thinks like a critter. Is noted for this one famous remark : V-e-s-m-a-a-m. A «« ' » ( ' .. M. STKIIKI.ANI). i:. i:. S. 25

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iimmons First Sergeant. Guileless. Sweet face and lovely dimples. Looks swollen in jeans trousers. Has refused to learn to smoke for fear of ruining ' the shape of his mouth. His laugh starts all the fowls to cackling like mad. Is a cavalier of ve olden times. War- bles his tutti-frutti verses to every damsel he can persuade to listen to him. Is a good boozer. Has never been caught with a drop. Is extravagant in his likes, and fishes on Sunday. Has a soft eye and a curly lock. Wears the same size shoe and collar. Looks like thirty cents. The girls are crazy over him. Calls the roll beau- tifully. Presides at the camera with ease. Plays with a rubber bouncing ball. This trite remark is attributed to Young Simmons: If you don ' t study, you w-on ' t graduate. V. J. SIMMONS, B. B. S. 24

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Class Poem, 06 Well, we have reached the goal! A hai3]3v time we were told, But in our meditation Springs up a congregation Of thoughts, which us do inspire To things greater and things higher. It has been our lot to prate ' Bout things we ' ll illustrate ; Xow we take a solemn mien. Knowing things re not what they seem. This was our thought when Freshmen playin ' ball. A strange thing one head can contain all. O ' er our studies ' twas our fate to pore And become familiar with much lore, And forget our pleasure on the green Until our faces grew pale and thin. But as Seniors havin serious thoughts, Thinkin ' fear the things that time hath wrought, That in its lengthened measure, Twill intermingle with our pleasure. It is sad to leave our teachers dear Who ' re kind when roses bloom and woods are sere. We ask their pardon for scorning prayers. And promise yet penitential tears. Oh ! saddest thought ! We can ' t any more drill And hear our Commandant ' s voice so shrill. When all our college days are over, This bitter thought which we shall hover. As we grasp each other ' s farewell hand. Meet again if in another land. Grover C. IcKibbex, Class Poet. 26