Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

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mini:mininisriuioioicrisitnioiuiuinifniuininiuinioim111101: If yoifre feeling in oi lighter frame of mind, try this over on your itkelele: HAPPY DAYS I From Junior High to Senior in a column we came streaming, Ninety boisterous freshmen with eyes for fun, And we took our places gayly with our youthful faces beaming And we marveled at the seniors, we deferred to every one. For their rank was one with graces And they kept us in our places As was right, for they were ending what we'd only just begun. Refrain: They were veterans in the battle that we'd only just begun. II We passed our first year nobly and each freshman called us Master , As we smiled at all those children and their puerile pranks, For our station rose above theirs, we were moving toward the vaster Realms where we should be the leaders and the highest in the ranks. We now had greater knowledge And were thinking about collegeg We were mighty marching sophomores and superior in our ranks, Refrriiru Mighty marching sophmores much superior in our ranks. III We all stepped boldly forward to another higher place, Juniors with great brain power and giants Cof a kindj, We dared to vie with seniors and could beat them in the race And they knew it-but they simply smiled as though they didn't mind. , We raised our banner higher Joyous juniors filled with fire We soon would be commanders with more serious thoughts in mind, Refrain' Seniors, senatorial s-eniors with more serious thoughts in mind. IV We sallied to our classrooms with our eyes turned from the sun, Stately, subtle seniors with our goal in view- We were lords of each new freshman, sophomore, junior every one, And were persons to be honored as the strictly chosen few. But in June our pride forsook us And a gripping grief quite shook us We were seniors pure and simple with our schooldays nearly through. Refmiii: Smiling seniors pure and simple very sad at leaving, too. Now we go but we'll remember All our days at Plymouth High. Teachers, comrades, worktime, playtime, Peace be with you all! Good-bye. K. DAVIS '31 01 ini: i 1 201111212 1 101111 1 3 211313 ilvinioilrininio

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THE PILGRIIVI 23 Jai? I- L.. .L,,1,. A ' ' I--', ' ., I't : if lpiqj,Q.i:g:! q .es F-4 2 -if 5 ,iff ,. A c---- 2 '- I 'QW - ' ii 4 - A nm --V ,5 L --xx -N T S - 'F' - BY US IN GERMANY FOR iifteen whole minutes I had sat a.nd sat, pouting+-cursing the world in general. I was angry with my mother. She had said No! -refused to let me go bare- footed. I, who had always been first. Would I fail this year? Give it up, tell them I couldn't? Oh, Temptation, go from me lest I de- base myself by shamefully disgrac- ing my ten-year-old self. I must be a man! My thoughts were interrupted. A roll of thunder? Surely my im- agination had carried me too far. No, there it was again. All thoughts fled from me but one. That thunder-would it or would- n't it? I hastily ran down to my old Grosmudder, Had she heard? Yes! That was my big day and, as I look back, I laugh. Would that I were a boy again! My Grandmother was saying- By us in Germany storms vas al- vays coming. We nefer knew ven. Yah-yah-, and she went on talk- ing of her childhood days. I heard her, but everything seemed far away, distant and funreal. My thoughts were elsewhere. Every- thing was quiet, but for the roll of thunder. Occasionally a flash of lightning illumined the dark room for, in words of my Grandmother, By Us in Germany we alvays pulled down shades. Mine mudder call us all together und such stories she tell us, - and once more the old lady was off, her face aglow as she recalled her past. Whenever a thunder storm ap- proached, I always ran to her. We counted the peals of thunder to- gether. Would it or wouldn't it? That was the question. If only it would! Oh Thunder, do your duty! My fate lies in your hands. Finally I interrupted the old lady. Why won't it, Grosmudder? Won't the men that roll those barrels let me if I'm good ? All she said was, Sh! Listen- ein, zwei,-ach du Lieber! Only vunce more, mein shutzf' Once more all was quiet. The rain came down-such a monot- onous atmosphere. Oh, would I were in Germany! Would that thunder-? But wait, I must be patient, must not lose my faith. Generally sh-e was right. I looked at her. A sudden light had come into her eyes. She uttered one word, Count! I did-in her tongue, Ein, zwei, drei! The last Word I spoke tri- umphantly. Grosmudder! It's come,-the Thunder did it-three times. Yah, yah, she said, Es is come. By Us in Germany ven the little men roll thunder barrels ein, zwei, drei times, then es time for little boys go barefoot, and by Us in Germany- But I stayed no longer. I had conquered! I was no failure! I would be the Hrst to appear bare- foot. The thunder and Grosmudder with her stories of By Us in Germany had turned the trick. I went back upstairs, two steps at a time, with all the joy and glee of a happy kid saying to myself, Ein zwei, dreig Ich lieber dich! THELMA BIRNSTEIN '31 A SENIOR'S SOLILOQUY ONE more month of school-I count the days on the calendar, but-somehow the thrill of getting out of school is gone. I wonder what it can be like- days of no books, no desks, no teachers, nights of no homelessons. I do not care now if it is the end of school days for me, but, as I muse here, I wonder if my heart is at all affected by this sudden change. It will be when school re- opens in the fall, and I see the