Springfield College - Massasoit Yearbook (Springfield, MA)

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Cdc ' ll ]Ve f cr forget 1906 Class poem We ’ll ne ' er forget our glorious class, We Ml ne’er forget our yell, W e ’ll ne ' er forget tho years may pass, The men vve knew so well. Ra ta ter thrat, ter thrat, ter thrat ! Terra ter lix. ter lix ! A right familiar sound is that, ’T is the yell of Naughty Six. ’Bert Buckland we will ne’er forget, With girl in Buffalo, — Methinks I hear his tenor yet. And hear his bugle blow. “Could Beckett play the piano?’’ Why, man, you know full well You couldn’t control your tingling toe He played so mighty well ! And Walter Cobb we ' ll ne’er forget, So quiet and “true blue.” In “Gym.” he made the Middlers sweat — Could bat a baseball, too. We’ll not forget the chap named Day, The philosophic one, Who oft the simplest things would say In words that weighed a ton. Now, Doctor,” — that is Walter Giles. Some posers he ’d propound ; To sweep a room he ’d walk for miles ; I11 work he did abound. Nor Goldsmith will we e’er forget. Say, were n’t his notions queer? In “Gym.” could he do stunts? You bet The girls all used to cheer. A rose cheeked lad was Carl Goodwin, His smile was on to stay. The hundred he aspired to win ; — And baseball curves? Oh, say! Tho young, another chap was Gray, How Frank he was to all, And “That reminds me— by the way,” He captained V. Baseball.

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honorary J ' lembers, 1 906

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THE MASSASOIT A Harry man was Hamilton — Mt. Allison, B. A. Ill fared the Juniors he sat on In English day by day. And Walter Hawkes, we all recall, Was quite at home with girls, And next to this at playing ball, Where he could hit the twirls. The dishes used from day to day Were by Pereira scoured; The little that he had to say With wit and wisdom flowered. The lad with dimples in his face Who bore the name of Platt, At questioning could set a pace Not slower than ten flat. John Lawson ! Did n’t he look big When on the “T. S. line He stood in all his football rig? The girls said he looked fine. And “Easy” Marks, like cascarets. Who worked while others slept, By “pulling wires” he paid his debts — • The earth shook when he stepped ! We ’ll ne’er forget Mason, A. A., Our football captain he, Whose ankle sprained caused him to say, “No ‘Aggie’ game for me.” A loyal Presbyterian In George Peckham we knew ; An untiring pedestrian, A nervous fellow, too ! Well named indeed was Prettyman, The hornpipe he could dance ; For socials he would gladly plan, If cash we would advance. Our baseball coach, the chap from Bates, Was Purinton, R. D. We ’ll ne’er forget his warm debates, Plis gestures wild and free ! “I ’m representing H. C. White ; Something entirely new.” And Seller sold by day or night, If what he said was true (?). We ’ll ne’er forget the stately way That Seybolt, week by week, Would rise and never fail to say, “It’s this way, so to speak.”