St Lukes Hospital School of Nursing - Blu Chambray Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

Page 50 text:

You know not what I mean by Maclhouse. 'Tis simple enough. Behold- This temple on my shoulders The custodians were Sisters-Reason- But they were weak and their duty-not well was it pe1'fo1'n1ed. The conservatives they let not Keep the place in tow. Then foolishness hroke in and 1'lll1l'flCI'6Cl the High Priest Foresight- And with his very blood did Seek to savor that place Unholy. Fl.o1z1zN l46l C12 SEXTON

Page 49 text:

he Qgfafplilidl Y-30rter'5 seamen! FOUNTAIN pen may be a blessing, but to some it sure is a curse, for when it don't How then certain things happen, which couldn't be very much worse. For they grab the thing hy the middle, it won't write- confound it-and theng their arm flies up and down very rapid, much like the wings of a hen. Some say they do it on purpose, but I don't believe that they think, when they spray Chartroom floors with a half pint or more of the fastest black kind of ink. 'Course Barkeeper's friend and a1111nonia water scours it off, but I do think they'd ought'er be more careful cause 'taint no fun to get down and scour like a Son-of-a- Gun. I Men can wear brogans that are full of holes, but the girls must have niftier shoes, so the most of them have the white kind on, but-OI-I l why do they always choose when they go to the store, where there's a million or more, the ones with the rubber soles? The Bard wrote the song called The Long Lost Trail. I found it the other day, from the utility room door Chad just mopped the hall floorj, it wended its crooked way. It wound in and out, around and about. I followed it high and low, when it started to roam, toward the Nurses' Home, I thought of my poor old friend Joe. For to enter their lairs they must climb those stairs and leave black tracks C no matter whosej clear to the top. OH l VV hat's the use to mop when the girls wear rubber soled shoes? Both kinds of pans have bottoms, that's to keep the wet inside, so what's the use, and where's the excuse, many times it has been tried, to carry these pans hanging down, the drops sure drip on the floor. Then those rubber-shod feet, make a place that was neat, look like Heck 'til we mop once more. The trash can lid is to keep trash hid and there sure is nothing cute, when you Come with more dirt, your feelings are hurt, your temper is riled, and you feel hard boiled, for you find on the lid of that can there is piled soiled linen that goes down the chute. The patients are lying upon their backs. they think the is upg a friend brings in a big bouquet, with stems on it like a bunch of hay, the patient is cheered, but. OH! we say, Can you balance a tree in a cup ? Nurse gets a vase that's much too small and every minute it's due for a fallg then it does happen and as sure as fate, it never does 'til it's awful late. That vase up- sets and makes big slops, after you have put away your mops, and are ready to start for the dining room, where they feed you on taters and gravy and meat, and other things that are good to eat. But you must get out your tools, say nothing at all. but mop up that water spilled in your hall. In the great hereafter which we all must meet, and take What's coming to us, the porter has hopes he'll be ushered in, away from all earthly clamor and din: where tracks and pans and cans and vases, do not exist, and as he chases around that heavenly haven of rest, he hopes he always will be hlest with joys so big he won't want to cuss. BURTON. l45l

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Tomo1'1'ow-suspense- Blue hour of unlmppiuess between: fSllllSlllllC on the lilorrow Be it nezu' or fzirj 'li1'0lllJlC, like yellow smoke Settling zmcl clearing, Swirling' thru trees Oliliteratecl in rlzirk-VVo1'1'y: Comes in llapping hordes of bl Scattering confusion- Foi' the Fool has lost his Way In the woods of Rigliteolisness. Fnou I47 l ack bats ENCIQ S12x'roN