St Boniface School of Nursing - Estole Fideles Yearbook (St Boniface, Manitoba Canada)

Page 26 text:

Class o£ 46 24 Front Row: left to right — B. Gilmour, G. Alarie, F . Peel, H. Shead, I. Wallwin, M. Hutchison, M. McKay, S. Krawchuk, H. Warkentin. Middle Row: M. Voth, B. Elliot, Mary. McKay, G. White, M. Leithead, L. Haskell, E. Syslack, J. Sabourin, N. Lyons, X. Hrushowy. Third Row: E. McBride, A. Semair, N. Gagnon, C. Leach, I. Hebert, A. Gleboff, D. Mullin, P. Martin, M. Steeves, D. Cameron.

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Page 27 text:

PASSING PARADE The year has rolled ’round, (Time has passed mighty quick), May we add a tew views Of the class of “46”? First comes Batty, the wit, Of our classmates all. Beattie her roommate, Trailing her down the hall. Just a minute, what’s that? Has the opera arrived? It’s just Beigler on second. No, no one has died. Then comes Cameron, With a ready smile And Ferg, she’s serious — Once in awhile. Gagnon, our banker, left holding the purse; Gleboff, the dainty, the cute little nurse. Grayston, what’s this we hear about a man? Frain, the best ever, heads our little clan. Haskell, our Shorty, a gay one to meet. When it comes to real nursing, She’s a hard one to beat. Hebert, saying loudly, “Look girls, a new hair”. Leach whose dark eyes would make any man stare. Night duty awaits, not Leithead again “Oh, but I can’t I’ve got a date then.” Martin, her talents are hard to excell. Mercier, our French little mademoiselle Who ' s that in the carriage being wheeled thru the door? It must be McBride— another uproar. There’s a loud cry for “Ricky” Mullin must be near by. Sabourin, lamenting, “Oh Gee Kid, why?” Steves, who believes that men are a curse. And then there’s Simair — patient or nurse? White’s in the hallway, “Are you going out?” She’s starving again, without any doubt. Lyons, our blond, so graceful and slender. Her mail box is full — the letters they send her. Alarie comes next, words ne’er cause her alarm. Oh! Oh! here comes Coutts with “I’ll break your arm.” Cruse, conscientious, faithful and kind. Evans, has she just nursing in mind? Did I hear a book just drop on the floor? It must be Gilmour starting to snore. H-rush-away here and dash-a-way there. Hutchy, a limping along the stair. Hyland, our wee one, so gay and so sweet. Krawchuck to know her is really a treat. Loewen, or “Wiggy” to all her friends Her kindness to others just never ends. Mackay “bonnie lassie frae oot Scotland way”. Manson, her laughter, resounds all the day. McBean may seem quiet. Don’t let that deceive you. McCarthy, her spelling, we simply must see to. Roll call is over, there’s one missing yet, It must be McDonald, how much do you bet? There’s a buzzer ringin, a mad dash on fifth floor. McKay’s expecting a phone call — just what is the score? Peel, sadly lamenting, “I’ll never get through Along comes Shead. “What are you going to do?” Sellick, the red head, just raring to go. Voth’s here to learn, not to put on a show. Thomas, or “Tommy”, at sports she excells. When it comes to studies — oh how she rebels. Wallwin, who dresses so smart and so chic. My land sakes alive, was that Warkentin’s shriek? Our tale’s almost over But it just couldn’t end Without adding the names And best wishes we send To our Sister Baumann Now back in our midst. And Hryn, jolly sport, Whom we’ve all greatly missed. And now we have finished Just give this a mix And you’ll have the concoction Of the class of “46”. The “THREE MACS” from “fifth” 25