Robert Louis Stevenson School - Circus Yearbook (New York, NY)

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ll Tl llll ill W U r 7 X. x. rj? X f l ,f li at first, you don't succeed Fudge is my favorite candy. That is-chocolate fudge. For fudge I would climb the Empire State Building-barefoot. For fudge I would turn handsprings down Broadway, or let my dentist drill down to my toe nails. In fact, I might even go so far as to say that I would rather eat fudge than listen to Frankie. I am an artist. An artist whose soul blazes anew when I have created a creation. A masterpiece. A hot tamale. Fudge and Art. Damon and Pythias. Romeo and Juliet. But genius cannot paint without first indulging in the pleasures gained by eating a piece of fudge. Chocolate fudge. But, and again l repeat, but - as all great things on this earth, fudge must be created by human hands, from ingredients of nature's bountiful products. I cannot make fudge. I cannot even make Vanilla fudge. I have tried recipes from everyone of the 48 united nations. I have traveled the length and breadth of this wide world, going to great expense of course, trying to find some creature who would convey to me the magical touch. The method. The means of producing a perfect square inch of chocolate fudge. I have tried in vain. l have been shocked to my depth. A human hand cannot produce the simple miracle. Not a human hand-But, and again I repeat, but-I find that the perfect piece of mellow sweetness is concocted by pouring powdered ingredients into a pan of milk. Fudge is now manufactured. I have only one thing more to say in this matter. May the Tootsie Fudge Manufacturing Company be blessed with eternal age and happiness. garlara munaefl fiat it fill X W of I.-5 K .fm hfvxf . Vx., jburk- M

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The Tale of the Headstrong Worm The flowers bloomed And the birds had sung, When out of the earth, There suddenly sprung A large and remarkable worm. He called to his brothers len million strong, And he spoke of the terrible deeds of wrong Which the creatures on top of the earth had done, To the cultured and civilized worms. They use us for bait to catch hshf' said he, And all other kinds of unpleasantry, For they feed us to birds, and they plow up nests, And they never give us a momenfs rest, Went the doleful tail of the worm. So let us unite, and fight, fight, hght, And demand of these people our natural rights The equality of the worm. Then all at once, from the sky, so blue, A star dropped down and cut in two this patriotic worm. The head part began to cry aloud, Go back in your crack, like the rest of the crowd While I say a thing or three. But the tail part said, Though you are the head, Youarenotasnearl wellb 'l fl y ru , or ff 1 , or as rnannerty as me. So on they fought, the live long night, While the other worms crawled to their holes in fright! In fact the blood worms turned quite white At this whimsical fiddle-dee-dee. Then down from a tree, flew a well mannered bird, Whose rest these fellows had quite disturbed, And he swallowed them silently. Now the moral ofthis story is to have you be prepared When you're cut in two, Don't fight with you, But have yourself repaired. Jael? .jJar-rid Q 43 O AI nano JI, an Jr, 9

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O lffle So often we hear people say How fast goes time, where does it'st y? a Wherever you are, whatever you do Time always seems to be there too. A child for instance, starts to weep And says: I don't want yet to sleep I just got up and I am now playing. No, no, time to go to bed, mom's saying. But a student says, School lasts so long Sometimes I think the clock is wrong. But after school the time just runs I don't understand how that comes. Parents do not believe their eyes Aly child has grown up your mother sighs. I still remember him so small, And now he is so strong and tall. Grandparents tell you about the past And sigh: Time goes for me too fast. To be young now, that must be good. We call that a sentimental mood. People are born, will live and die And time goes on, it seems to fly. There is but one thing we can do.' To use our time usefully too.' RUTH WVEINER we Q ff We ll sl A i ' l T fl ,I T' W H QBLJ A i .ixrx AR.. J ll X I eblw- Q C If l 4 1 x 2 E ,Z 0 4 .-f Z '7 lf X as Jen wo 'lflkfhh I dreamed I did die and to heaven did go, Where are you from? they wanted to know I stood straight and tall - I didn't flinch, I'm from Stevenson - would do in a pinch They opened their eyes and at me did stare, Come in, said St. Peter, you're the first one from there. I entered and searched for to find me one friend, I gazed and I gazed but 'twas to no end., At last to St. Paul the small one, I trotted And asked the dear man where my friends could have gotted. He stared sad and long but at last he did say, The devils done got them, they're way down - a - way. I asked for a passport to Hades and back, H I took off my halo and my wings I did pack, I fell down to earth with a terrible smack, And broke my poor neck, and my head I did crack. This time I did die but to Heaven didn't go - I came to my senses away down below. I pulled on the rope by the black gates of Hell And the devil himself came to answer the bell Where are you from? - what a gleam in his eye.' I'm from Stevenson. - my simple reply. The Devil was pleased, a broad grim he smiled Percentage one-hundred, from Stevenson, my child. GRACE GALLEN