Roundup High School - Rodeo Yearbook (Roundup, MT)

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R O D E O — i 9 2 6 2 3 Final Exams A final exam is a good review Of the work we’ve had all year, And gives an idea of how much we’ve learned In a way that is perfectly clear. They are given so that our teachers and we Might know just how dumb we can be, And whether we’ve spent our time in school To advantage or foolishly. You’ve asked me to tell you truthfully If I like them and why so; So like Washington and the cherry tree I’ll speak the truth—I don’t know. It’s sort of a joke, or at least last time, And caused me many a laugh To get exempt in three subjects, And in history, forty-three and a half. I wouldn’t suggest a substitute For everything else is the bunk, And the dear little final exams give a chance To flunk, or not to flunk. —Fern Crothers.

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22 RODEO — 1926 The Modern Lochinvar “Oh, Young Lochinvar is come out of the west: Thru all the wide Border his steed was the best-” ONLY he came from the east and rode in a Checker taxi. H i s name was John Brown—n o relative t o John Brown’s body, however. John had just come from the Onion De- pot where “The Fly- er” from Albany had “dropped” him. He had grabbed a Check- er and ridden as fast as the speed laws would permit—or possibly a little faster —to the fourteen-story domicile of his childhood sweetheart. She had written him that the wedding was to “come off” Tuesday at three o’clock—two minutes to go! John Brown boldly brushed past the butler and with a hasty step entered the room wherein the wedding was to take place. “What’s the big idea,” demanded his sweetheart’s father, as he put away his pocket flask and started to roll up h:s sleeves, “Are you ‘nuts’, coming into my house in this fashion?” “So’s your aged male parent,” answer- ed John Brown. “I have come to bid good- bye to my childhood sweetheart.” “Thinkest thou, knave, that a ditch-dig- ger, such as you are, could ever win the hand of my fair daughter? Why, your fathor has onlv three billion simoleons!” “Three billions may be only one hole in the mosquito netting,” snarled John, “But remember—there are lots of chorus girls ready to bite, with three billion cartwheels as bait.” The “old man” could do nothing but look, unheeded in the presence of this mas- terful young man.” “Ah,” whispered Eliza’s old maid aunts—for Eliza was her n a m e—“ ’Twere better far that ’lil Liza Jane should marry this young man than that spineless drug store cowboy over yonder.” John Brown whis- pered a word into the ear of Eliza, his child- hood flame, and they both flew down the hall and into the waiting Checker, in- c'dentally knocking the aforementioned butler down. The young man thrust a couple of “case” notes into the driver’s hand and shouted, “Ten cents more if you make it to the No Chance Aviation Field in eleven and three-eighths minutes.” “Aye, aye, sir,” answered the cabbie and threw in the clutch with a jerk, there- by leaving Eliza and John Brown in a heap on the floor of the cab and a string of smoke rings to greet the disgruntled father when he had perambulated his 350 pounds of avoirdupois down to the curb- ing. Nor was there anything more heard of the absconding couple, until ten days la- ter when Eliza wired her father from Hin- dostan: “Cable $500,000 for traveling expenses. Without love. Eliza.” The father “threw” a fit and was car- ried to the Thirty-third street Bug House where he spent the remain- der of his days repeatmg such phrases as “Unroll me, I’m a bundle of tape; pound me, I’m a nail,” etc. Jim and Eliza rented an igloo and started light house- keeping at the North Pole, all their money being requir- ed for the electric bill for lights during the six months of darkness in a year. —George Swertelle

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24 ROD EO— i 92 6