Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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THE QUIVER THOUGHTS ON RUGBEATING. (After seeing the cover of “The Literary Digest” for March 19.) Say fellers: Did yeh ever on Saturday mornin’ When yeh was goin’ out to play, Have yer mother come yellin’ at yeh, John Henry, you’ve got to beat rugs today? An’ Sis, who thinks she’s a lady, With her clo’s and stuck-up air. Comes preachin’ at the window, Sayin’ “That boy never does his share!” Gee, doncher feel like swearin' An grabbin’ yer bat ’n ball An’ packin’ year choicest blongin’s An' runnin’ away from it all? An’ while yer beatin’ an’ growlin’ An’ bangin’ fer all yer worth, Out comes Ma with another big load An’ says, “Hurry, John, don’t try to shirk! “You know your father this mornin’ Said, you must help me clean house today. An’ I am to keep you a-workin’ So’s you’ll value your next chance to play.” So yeh work all day like a beaver. Not ’cause yeh want to, gosh no! Just ’cause yeh gotta keep at it— There ain’t no chance to go. An’ at last when the sun is settin’, An’ yeh think yeh kin skip out o’ sight,— “Come right back here, young man, an’ Take your bath—this is Saturday night!” MILDRED T. HOYLE, ’21.

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 Cross Country Champions of R. I. Interscholastic League, 1920

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25 THE QUIVER When the diamond’s shinin’ smooth an’ flat beneath the morniit’ sun. And, free from school an’ studies, you can hear the fellows run, When you hear the bat meet horsehide with your comrade’s lusty smite. Don’t your eyes just fill with angry tears an’ things get black as night ? When you hear the fellows “choosin’ ” an’ you know they’re missin’ you, (But with Mother right beside you, what can a fellow do?) Oh! there’s lots of fun you’re missin’ when you’re not at their roll call! How can a fellow beat the rugs when the whole world yells, “Play ball! PHILIP L. VOELKER. ’21. Spring has come! Spring has come! I’m sure of that now, For the baseball team is having a row. Jimmy Snell, whom the boys call “fat.” Has been told by his mother to beat a mat. “The game’s all shot,” the pitcher said. “Hurry ’n’ we’ll wait,” yelled the captain, Ted. And over across the shady street. Is the steady sound of the beat, beat. beat. There’s Mary, the cook, with her arms full of rugs. And Mother at the window, while he frets and tugs. And down on the ground he has kicked with a shove The bat and the ball and the catcher’s glove. Spring has come! Spring has come! I’m sure of that now. For the baseball team is having a row. SYLVIA EMERY, ’21.