University of Nebraska College of Law - Yearbook (Lincoln, NE)

Page 111 text:

cfm c 11510 ,ms Of M Q f . iff EN , 6 F Jill gf l Kg' a ll fe t if PW N R 'X x gl gf 3 QX 17' X w v I in N l I, 'Wrist Wegligence Kontributoru :feads to the 'Conservatory .af Music hath charms? the poet said, to soothe the savage breast. Vlfhy has its charm Done Bald such harm, Harassed his soul, his noble head, and filled him with unrest? Each Sunday afternoon and night, and several nights a Week, With actions queer Friend Bald draws near The music school. To left and right he'll lookg then in helll sneak His charmer is, without a doubt, a maiden meek and mild, A beauty rare With golden hair. But when he knows his secret's out, F, A. Bald will be Wild. 105

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.u ,lr l a . l, 'fc N ? LLL as W 1 .. ' Ay! fn ZW .a l .W yf 5 ,X It happened in Lincoln, in Lancaster county, The state of Nebraska, that the god of bounty Had given to Ritchie, the smart Junior, all That he had desired, but a good football. He Went to the Library once in September, And found it deserted. Said he, I remember In that desk is hid the Senior football, Itls a good time to steal it, and fool them all. So, under his coat he tucked the football, Ran out of the room, and dove through the hall And out of the campus and up 12th street He ran fast as he could move his feet. And now, every evening he takes such pleasure, His infantile joy is, in truth, without measure, As he takes a run, or a jump, or a fall With his greatest treasure, that stolen football. QQ is 9 an E H6 555 104

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- :I I 1 5 it LAL? ill if ff fm- X I - fl . lm. Botrous iw? ,fl f x Oiffusmi I H f1F f'h .7 ha 5 I Just after C Se E -mt . 1 -. I 14,1-I t lass the 1 - ag-r-fs.-nl -I If y 5.14 fn, L ,x'brd'fVsLEPSdf1fl 3' er..f1jnr:T:lfi1-It for at ... I --fi' Ni - I k I j : Abi: .rev - Y X .?fart's Qraqer I do not pray for morbid wealth, Though low my coffers beg Nor yet for love, nor better health, For these will come to meg Nor do I sigh for worldly fame, For bards to loudly sing The glories of my Work and name- That's but a paltry thing! But this devoutly I avow, The burden of my prayer, That there will come to me somehow A part of Armstrong's hair! ' 9'feiffer'a Qraqer Bountiful Goddess, at your feet, You see two men distressed, Who've wandered days with naught to eat To make this sad request. Our hair, like Armstrong's, once did grow, But we used brush and comb, Till destiny, as we well know, Gave us this shining dome. Ohg noble Goddess, give us hair, Lest, with our supply-a cipher, It should become a proverb rare, As bald as Hart or Pfeiffer. 106