Saturday, March 6, 2010

Student Poem Written In Early 1950s

Seymour Herald - 28 January 2010
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Seymour High School Poem
Listen my children and you shall hear
Of times now past but still held dear,
At Seymour High, oh! What a yen
To be half as smart again
As I thought I was through my senior year.

E. O. Berge was the big shot down there
To judge or to counsel, a fellow most fair
He'd outshine most coaches with plenty to spare
At yankin' up trouser legs, none could compare
And I'd not for a minute have anyone think
He didn't turn more than a delicate pink
When some of us managed to get in his hair.

Ruth Henderson, teacher and principal, too
'Twas her keepin' at us that pulled us through
(You know) I'll bet when she gets to heaven's gate
She'll have her excuse as to why she's late
She'd had to pack all her bugs and her cook books too.

Maurice Stamps is a fellow I shall never forget
My ain't and my tain'ts didn't make me his pet.
He was a whale of a football coach.
Turned out track men above reproach
We seniors at play time could sure make him sweat.

Now that music man's name was something like Meyer
Of tootin and singin he just never did tire
He's wield that baton both this way and that
Or suddenly yell, "Can't you tell you're flat?"
But for him we marched on through dust or thru mire.

Now under Miss Banning my time was well spent
Tho' I don't just recall who was the 1st president.
She got all the news, right in the makin'
And oh! how she struggled with that picture takin!
With less than the best she would not be content.

By golly, there's one thing I sure owe to Max (Akers)
How to add and subtract for Uncle Sam's tax
He went a courtin' and did all right
Taught his teams to sew the games up tight
How he thrilled when he heard us yell, "Give 'em the ax."

There was one, name Gray who was sharp as a knife
Sure knew his business you bet your sweet life
He's say, "Now you debit this, you credit that"
Gave me a typewriter that couldn't spell cat.
I wonder if he ever found him a wife.

From down in Missouri came another big man
For Manual Arts teachers you couldn't beat Dan
He was the one that taught us to drive
Believe it or not he came out alive
Course when he drove along all the people ran.

To join these teachers--maybe just for sport
Iowa State sent its mayor to Pammel Court
He taught us Ag's alll the charm
To be found alivin' on the farm
And I'll tell you, for words, he never was short.

Then there was a teacher, how could I forget
Always writin that shorthand--bet she is yet
All right, Calm down and I mean you
Course she talked louder than any two
She as one of the funniest people I ever met.

Oh! but it's not just the teachers that I can recall
I liked the homecomings we had every fall
That place was a riot carnival night
I worked on the banquet with all my might
Oh, I'd stew and I'd fret but I loved it all.

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