Newspapers / Salem College Student Newspaper / Nov. 29, 1923, edition 1 / Page 2
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THE SALEMITE JUNIORS YELLS AND SONGS Bum, chica, bum, Bum, chica, bum, Bum, chica, bum, Rika, chica, bum, bum, bum, Rip, rah, rum. Rip, rah, rum. Juniors, Juniors, Rah! Rah! Rah! Give ’em tlie axe, the axe, the axe. Give ’em the axe, the axe, the axe. Give ’em the axe, give ’em the axe. Where? Right in the neck, the neck, the neck, Right in the neck, the neck, the neck. Right in the neck, right in the neck! There! Pumpkins, Potatoes, Hayseed, Squash, Can we beat the Seniors? Yes, by gosh. Rah! Rah! Rah! Sis ! Boom! Bah! Eat ’em up; Chew ’em up Rah! Rah! Rah! Say! Say what? That’s what I What’s what? That’s what they all say! What’s what they all say? Juniors. Hit ’em high. Hit ’em low. Juniors, Juniors, let’s go. Rickety, Rickety, Sis, Boom, bah. Junior, Juniors, Rah ! Rah! Rah! J-u J-u-n J-u-n-i-o-r-s. That’s the way you spell it, Here’s the way you yell it. Juniors, Juniors. Chica, lacka, Chattanooga, Bunker Hill, Yorktown, Famous men in famous places. Yet they cannot win the races, the spaces. Won by us—Juniors. set Razzle, dazzle, frizzle, frazzle. Not a thread but wool. All together, all together. That’s the way we pull. Hit ’em in the wishbone. Soak ’em in the jaw. Send ’em to the graveyard. Rah! Rah! Rah! Nigger, Nigger, hoe potatoes. Half past alligator, Ram, Bam, bulligator, Chica, wah, claw, Juniors, Juniors, Rah! Rah! Rah! JUNIOR TEAM SONG Team: Captain—Sophia Hall. Jumping Center — Elizabeth Parker. Side Center—Sophia Hall. Forwards—Elizabeth Leight and Pauline Hawkins. Guards — Louise Woodard and Jean Abell. Subs — Frances Young, Ellen Wilkinson and Esther Efird. You can’t beat the Juniors, You can’t beat the Juniors, You can’t beat the Junior Team, Use your team and get up steam, But you can’t beat the Junior Team. One, two, three, four, Three, two, one, four. Who are we for? Juniors, Juniors. (Tune “Turkey in the Straw”) I’m a Junior born. I’m a Junior bred, And when I die. I’ll be a Junior dead. So I’m backing my team with heaps of pep Till we win this game for the sea son’s rep. Red and Black shall wave on high. We’ll win this game today or die. For the Junior Team is the best of all. So we’ll give three cheers for them all in all. JUNIOR CLASS SONG The class that has done its very best. In all school work and play, To Salem dear, raises with the rest A song so very gay. All hail to the Juniors of spirit right. Because we do unite, For love and friendship are alive. In the Class Twenty-five. JUNIOR—FRESHMAN Irish pototoes, Irish potatoes, squash. Freshman—Juniors, Yes, by gosh. Get a wiggle on. Get a wiggle on, Don’t stand there and giggle on. Get a wiggle on. Get a wiggle on. And root for your team. When you’re up, you’re up. When you’re down, you’re down. When you’re up against the Fresh men—J uniors, You’re up side down. JUNIOR YELLS Another little job for the under taker. Another little job for the casket- maker. In the cemetery they are very, very busy with a brand new game, N o—more—Seniors. Rickety, Rickety, Russ, We’re not allowed to cuss. But nevertheless we must confess. There’s nothing the matter with us. Rattle up a tin can, Coon up a tree. Sophomores, Sophomores, Teedle, teedle, dee! FOUR RULES FOR A GOOD . SPORTSMAN {By Henry Van Dyke) 1. When you play a game al ways wish to win and try to win, otherwise your opponent will have no fun; but never wish to win so much that you cannot be happy without it. 2. Seek to win only by fair and Iwful means according to the rules of the game, and this will leave you without bitterness toward your op ponent or shame before others. 3. Take pleasure in the game even though you do not obtain vic tory; for the purpose of the game is not merely to win, but to find joy and strength in trying. 4. If you obtain this victory which you have so desired think more of your good fortune than of your own skill. This will make you grateful and ready to share with others the honor bestowed upon you, and truly this is both reasonable and profitable; for it is but little that most of us would win in this world were our fortunes not better than our deserts.—Exchange. Thanksgivii^ —Then and Now N THESE days of rush and rustle, the advent of Thanksgiving serves most of all to remind us of what wondrous changes time has wrought. The Thanksgivings of our fathers and those of to day are no more alike than the min uet and the fox trot, the dances that well typify the era of the present and tlie past. About the only thing left to us fron\ out of the old days l8 the Thanksgiving turkey, and even this bird is not now held sacred and nec essary for this festival. The very mention of the word Thanksgiving brings to the mind a picture that modern conditions have turned to the wall. It Is a picture of the time when life was simple In Its pleasures and robust In Its strength; when people were really folks; when the race and rivalry of life did not ex tend their office hours over the entire day. That state of things has now passed away. It has followed in the «ake and the trail of the pioneers and the other figures of tlie American national life that was but Is not. In the old days tliere were tippets and mltt’ni!, things that hang in mem ory's closet on the same nail as the high stock, men’s shawls and daguer- rotypes. Gone are the marvelous tip pets that went round and round the neck until a person was swathed like a mummy of an cient Egypt. Gone, too, are the mltt’ns knit at home In colors of sunset and sun rise blue, those cozy ancestors of gloves. As for the bootjack, in these days of luxury and ready-made shoes It is as unknown as any creature of the prehistoric age. No longer does Thanksgiving bring the real mince pie, that culinary tri umph of every well-regulated house hold, with its wonderful fruity flavor, that cunningly combined tlie qualities of solidity and crlspness, a pie that even If dangerous to health made a danger well worth facing and putting down. Compared with the bakery- built substitute of today the mince pie of those days was a vintage pie, as far above Its modern rival as a vintage wine Is above the grocery wine for cooking use. Its existence was a splendid testimonial to the physical traits of the men and women of the era in which It flourished. Even the plum pudding, that carni val of richness, is disappearing from the stage. It is giving way to ice cream, that mollycoddle of digestion that invites to slow eating and delib erate enjoyment. The Thanksgiving stage Is now set with new scenes and new characters. There is the cabaret and terrapin, and football and the theater. There is the social function In place of the family festival; and In the evening hours the elaborate entertainment in the gilded ballroom, in place of the homely dance to the strains of the fiddle and the bow and the ministrations of the merry, squeaking fiddler. Truly, the coming of this holiday and its observ ance well measures the distance that the nation has gone from its life and its liabits in the days when Thanks giving day was young. i FERESHMEN YELLS AND SONGS FRESHMEN YELLS 1 —2—3—4—5—6—7 Freshman team is going to heaven When they get there They will yell , go to Razzle, dazzle, Hobble, gobble. Sis, boom, hah, P"reslimen ! I'reshmen ! Rah! Rah! Rah! Mr. Goodleigh—Her age really surprised me; she doesn’t look twenty, does she? Miss Snappe—Not now, suppose she did once. Irish potatoes. Sweet potatoes, String beans. Squash! F reshmen ! F reshmen ! Yes! by gosh! ’re in the high chair Who put ’em up there Ma! Pa! Sis boom bah! F reshmen ! F reshmen! Rah! Rah! Rah! Who’s gonna win-a-win Who’s gonna win-a-win Who’s gonna win-a-win now! We’re gonna win-a-win We're gonna win-a-win We’re gonna win-a-win how! Easy! ! ! Three cheers for the Freshmen reshmen must win Fight to the finish Never give in. Rah! Rah! Rah! You do your best girls' We'll do the rest girls I’ight for the victory. F-r-e-s-h F-r-e-s-h F-r-e-s-h-m-e-n That’s the way you spell it Here’s the way you yell it Freshmen! Freshmen! Jf reshmen! but I Whoop her up Whoop her up Whoop her up some more Freshmen team Is the team That we all adore. She's such a peach She's won our hearts Slie’ll surely win this game ftiie is not rough She is not tough liut she gets there just the same. When you’re up I'ou're up vVhen you’re down I ou’re down v»/hen you're up against Freslimen fou’re upside down. Do—re—me Who are we? W^e are, we are, we are we. 't aint no lie 't aint no blutf F'reshmen! Freshmen ! They're the stuif! Your pep! Your pep! You’ve got it now keep it Doggone it don’t lose it Your pep! Your pep! Leader: Where the Freshmen? Class: They’re on top. Leader: W'^here the ? Class: They’re in the soup. S-o-u-p, S-o-u-p, Soup! Soup! Soup! Rome! Caesar! Cicero ! Gaul! Freslimen team beats them all! Get a wiggle on Get a wiggle on Don’t stand there and giggle on. Get a wiggle on Get a wiggle on And root for vour team! 1—2—3—4 3—2—1—4 Who are we for ? Freshmen Freshmen ! Freshmen I T—e a-—m T—e a—m T—e a—m Team! Team! Team! Ray! (first name) Rah ! (last name) Ray! Rah! (full name) Ada! Padada! Paching! Paching! P'lip! Flap! Flip! Flap! Bing! Bang! Bing! Kickapoo! Walapoo! Siz ! Boom ! Bah ! Freslimen ! Freshmen ! Rail! Rah ! Rah ! Song to Team-. We’ll sing a song to our team The team that’ll win the day Black and Gold will triumph We’re going to lead the way. Perhaps we’re just beginners But the proverb it doth say Beginners are very lucky So “27” will win the day! Song to Class: Our colors are the Black and Gold We’ve never know defeat We always win what we begin We simply can’t be beat. Hail to the Freshmen With your “rep” and pep and colors flying Yell for the Freshmen The Freshmen are always on the top Tip! Top! Freshman Captain Forwards E. Raper M. Buckner Center E. Jones A. Steele Guards , D. M. Eddy L. 'Thomas Subs V. Griffin H. Ford A. P. Shaffner Colors—Black and Gold. SONG TO MISS STIPE. I. We have a dean of women here. Women here. Women here. We have a dean of women here. Her name is Miss Lula Mae Stipe. II. She has a little office room. Office room. Office room. She has a little office room. Where she waits to give advice. Chorus: Three cheers for Miss Stipe, Three cheers for Miss Stipe, Three cheers for Miss Stipe, The very best of all. III. We love to sit and talk with her, Talk with her. Talk with her. We love to sit and talk with her. When we are feeling blue. IV. She’s oft times very strict with us. Strict with us. Strict with u^. She’s oft times very strict with us. But we love her just the same. Chorus.
Salem College Student Newspaper
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Nov. 29, 1923, edition 1
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