Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

Page 30 text:

mm ' BEET mm (Uncle Bill Bottletop ' s reflections on H.C.of L.) FRANCES EUDALY, ' 23. T HE LAND of the honest, the home of the free, But ye can ' t hev sugar in yer coffee or tea, When th ' packin ' houses er filled up fat With meat an ' com an ' all o ' that, An ' then they say they ain ' t got none, I tell yer that ' s a goin ' some. The wholesale houses an ' groceries too, Ther ' s gittin ' to be quite a few, ' Cause they know then kin make lots o ' dough A slippin ' aroun ' an ' a-ehargin ' so. But I tell to ye, folks, they can ' t fool me ' Cause I ' m goin ' to have sugar in my tea. I ' m gonna git some beets an ' grind ' em up fine, An ' put in some cider an ' some apple rind. An ' make a big fire, that ' s roarin ' an ' hot. An ' borl it all down in the old copper pot, An ' then I ' ll hev beet sugar I bet. Fit enuf on a king ' s table to set. An ' when I go to the grocery in town, I ' ll go t ' the ' prieter an ' call ' im down. An ' tell ' im he ain ' t got nothin ' on me, ' Cause I kin make sugar jist as easy as he. An ' then he ' ll laugh an ' say, Haw, haw, Yer the funniest feller I ever saw.

Page 29 text:

EOEOIOO T ESTHER JONES, ' 21. HE SUN is sinking in the west, The birds are chattering in their nest, The day is almost done. A light breeze stirs the tree-tops high, Who answer with a long, soft sigh, And curt ' sy to the sun. The breeze now stirs the garden flowers, Carrying their perfume to the distant bowers, And all is calm and still. The sun ' s red tip sinks out of sight, While a bright star ushers in the night. Twinkling o ' er yonder hiU. The laborer from his work comes now, And the soft breeze cools his heated brow, So sweet and so caressing. He trudges on with home in mind, Where comfort he is sure to find, Along with God ' s own blessing.

Page 31 text:

mm mm e (uill mw ft mi MARIAN SHAW. HE SUN creeping through the window of a small but dainty apartment might have wondered why its sole occupants seemed so gay. Why did they dash around backwards and forwards, their bright eyes gleaming, tails flashing. Perhaps it was because the clock on the mantlepiece had just struck five, which of course, meant that the little lady of the place would return then, the carefully laid fire would begin to crackle and the teacups would rattle and the friendly little teapot would sing its merry song. Well, any one who had studied the mannerisms of goldfish might tell us that they were just naturally happy. Nevertheless the sun was sure something was going to happen, but alas, sad Fate, he would never know. He must help the ' ' dawn come up like thunder in China ' cross the bay. ' ' The door unaccustomed to being dashed open so violently croaked volubly in revolt, but was absolutely unheeded by the young girl who dashed in with eyes as bright as (you know) and cheeks as red as (oh, well). Flinging off her things she then lighted the fire, stood up and glanced about the room, espied Micky and Dicky Goldfish in the same condition as the sun had seen them. Oh, you know it, don ' t you dearies? Never, never another type writer. Mr. Deely will never say dictation to me again. And snatching out a letter from her pocket she read it again for the fifteenth time. Dear Miss Branon: It has been my duty to inform you of the death of your uncle, Ralph Branon, whom, no doubt you have never seen. As you are one of his rightful heirs a good deal will be yours, the amount of which you will be told of later. Sincerely yours, FEANK HIRK. I ' ll tell Mable about it tomorrow, she thought gleefully and busied her- self among the teacups. Mable Harmand was the only friend of Margaret Branon in that large city where Margaret, an orphan, had come to earn her living. Mable was also an older and wiser woman.