Wells River High School - Chatterbox Yearbook (Wells River, VT)

Page 14 text:

DAILY EVENT The Seniors were seated all peaceably on their thrones, Every one working, the lazy queens and the busy drones. Some one looked at the clock, 8:30, and issued a command. Then quickly, a dangling rope is seized by a careful hand. Very carefully the rope was pulled down, And notes of warning rang through the town. For one full minute the bell did peal, And then carelessly, the hands their clasp did unseal. Then, squirming, upward it soared To stay, dangling eight feet above the floor board. But suddenly there was a great shout of laughter; Once again the bell rope had gone through the rafters. GEORGE MARTIN, ’49 ---WRHS— THE SEASONS I love the Summer, With its skies so bright. I love the Winter, With its snow so white. I love the Summer, With its cool, blue lakes. I love the Winter, With its cold snowflakes. But I hate the Spring, And I hate the Fall, Because there is too much work To be done by all. HOD SYMES, JR., ’51 — Tivelve —

Page 13 text:

OoOV flTcR, A OIJR MODEL T The town was dull, So the fellows and me, Saved our pennies and bought a Model T. The fenders were dented, And the lights were smashed, The pistons were worn so they looked like hash. A little fixing was all she needed. We fixed her up so she looked like a car, And made her run like a shooting star. We went for a ride one day. I put the throttle clear to the floor, But we struck a bump and off flew a door. The roof fell in. The floor fell out. We went sailing round about. The darn thing stopped on the railroad track. We couldn’t get it started to save our neck, And when the train got through, the car was a wreck. STANLEY BOYCE, ’52 — Eleven —

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SPRING Leaves unfold to a new world, Birds a new song sing, Mayflowers show their smiling faces. These are signs of Spring. Grass fire's smokes are slowly rising. Mothers are house cleaning. Fields are sowed, and gardens planted. These are signs of Spring. Now the grass is turning greener, The days more sunlight bring. Skies are bluer, hearts are lighter. These are signs of Spring. Brooks once more throw off their blankets. Flowers by an old stump spring Up to greet the sunshine. For 'twill soon be Spring. JANE ROWDEN, ’ 2 ---WRHS------ WRITING A POEM I had to pass in a poem today. And I stayed up until ten last night Trying to think of something to say, Gee, it's awful hard to write! I tried to write about a tree. Or about our town or a car, And even about the busy bee, And the jokes told at the bar. But I guess I am not a poet And might as well stop trying, I only hope you're a better poet Sometime, before you are dying. SAM HUTCHINS, ’52 — Thirteen —