Tulia High School - Hornet Yearbook (Tulia, TX)

Page 24 text:

It seems to me he’s qualified As tax-collector to preside. Do you know Hazel? When she reads. One feels inspired to valiant deeds. Her name we’ll see, I do not doubt, On posters scattered all about. Declaring that she is the rage On every good Lyceum stage. Is there a one who can’t recall The jitney Howard made last fall? The boy who gave that thing its name. Is worthy a mechanic’s fame; From Russell’s fingers, long and slim, You’d make a pianist of him. But Russell’s wish is, if you please. To tickle telegraphic keys. Bonnie Dale’s athletically inclined; All sorts of sports just suit her mind. Tulia pupils may yet some day Have her to supervise their play. Ruie’s theatrical, as you see. And a happy-go-lucky lad is he, ‘Tis the best guess we can make, by far. That he will be a movie star. And what of Emma? She’s quiet and neat; It's easy to make her joy complete. With kitchen utensils, brooms, mops and pans She knows all about what comes in tin cans; I fear she’s already sentenced for life, To follow her bent as a thrifty housewife. Now George is lazy—fond of books— You’d judge that quickly from his looks; Unless in wrong, it is a cinch He’ll prop his feet on a lawyer’s bench. Wallace is very much like his dad. And though as yet he is but a lad. Everything seems to indicate That a rancher’s life will be his fate. Now as to Bertie, I have a hunch That she’s the school teacher of our bunch; She’s quiet and studious in school But gets her own way as a rule. When he ought to be studying, Austin is found Wasting good paper by the pound, Drawing funny cartoons or Vampire’s heads And painting them with bright blues and reds; From him I am sure we’ll hear no complaint If his life is linked up with a tube of paint- just watch Truss Cochran twirl a ball; No hit-or-miss stuff there at all. Some day ball fans will come in flocks To watch him pitch for the old White Sox.’ Jewell is noted for her spunk, Page High teen

Page 23 text:

Senior Prophecy “TIME WILL TELL” A prophecy I ne’er could write If I should try with all my might. I’m sorry, but I must deny The gift of a prophetic eye. ’Twill be much easier for me To write the things that I can see Which seem to mark the future state And destiny of each classmate. The poet didn’t miss it far Who said, “We shall be what we are” Suppose we try, as proof of this. To read the future of some Miss By summing up as best we may. The qualities she has today. Thelma Bivens? Yes. of course she’ll do; She’s musical and ambitious, too. She likes to play, but is so shy She dreads to meet the public eye. Secluded, then, some day she’ll sit Within a church with candles lit. While the music swells ‘neath her finger tips And a satified smile plays on her lips. And then there’s Alma. From her you’ll learn That she’s of a domestic turn ‘Tis strange how much delight she takes In baking crisp brown ginger cakes, I'll not be shocked her shop to find, When present years are left behind, In New York on a busy street Where she bakes these cookies brown and sweet Let’s take a lock now at the boys: We all know well what “Chink’’ enjoys. As “Hayseed” in the Senior play He was the “big hit” of the day • He’ll be a farmer, there’s no doubt; He hates to wait till school is out, In pass’ng let’s consider Joe; He’s happy all day long, we know. With pencils, paper, pen and ink. We’ll hear of him some day, I think. In hot pursuit of a career .As architect or engineer- Concerning Herron, let rre say 1 hat he’s the one who makes us pay. He’s president and treasurer all in one; At every turn he sends a dun.

Page 25 text:

When she sets her foot down it stays—ker-plunk! It’s likely she’ll spend all her days and nights On a platform expounding on woman’s rights. Above all. Shirley’s a diplomatic lad. He makes a thing seem good though it’s bad. For a smooth politician he was surely cut out And he’ll land in the Senate, I have no doubt. But now, alas! My scheme must fail Right at the conclusion of my tale. One girl alone, that I can see Has nothing to build on—and that’s LOLA MAY LINDLEY.