Newspapers / Lexington High School Student … / Jan. 24, 1947, edition 1 / Page 3
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January 24, 1947 THE LEXHIPEP Page 3 POETIC THOUGHTS THIS IS MUSIC TO ME —^Pat Randolph Music is boogie and popular swing, Classics, opera, and symphony. But all of this doesn’t quite explain What music means to me. Have you ever been out on a summer night When a soft breeze stirred in a tree And heard a cricket calling his mate? This is music to me. Have you ever been down by the ocean’s shore And looked across the sea And heard the lapping of the waves? This is music to me. Have you ever sat by an open lire And dreamed of things to be, And heard the crackling of the burn ing wood? This is music to me. Have you ever seen happy children at play And heard them laugh with glee? If you have then you know what I mean when I say This is music to me. Have you ever been bored with your work at school And waited till half past three? When you heard the sound of the long waited bell? ’This is music to me. JIM'S DAD —Bob Hendricks I stood by his grave and silently read In memory of him who is now dead. But I know, and you would know, too. If you could have loved him as I still do, That.he is not dead and could not be— Not a dad as good and as kind as he. Now as I stand by his grave and weep; I thnk of the friendship we vowed to keep; And the heart within me loudly states That someday we’U meet at the won derful agtes. But as I leave, I feel rather glad That I have a friend who had such a dad. SLENDER PINE —Ralph Bailey Slender pine upon the hill. Nodding your head like a daffodil. Weaving and rocking, too and fro, I sometimes wonder how you grow. Slender pine upon the hUl, Your branches are green with chlo rophyll; It’s winter and summer, sun and snow. As gentle winds through yoim branches blow. Slender pine upon the hill. Nature teaches you God’s will; When you’re swaying to and fro. Your nee.dles gently fall below. A carpet soft for human feet Is laid, as God they strive to meet. CINQUAINS HAPPY HUNTING —Robert Lee Leonard, Jr. (“Termite”) There is a fellow that lives in the wild; To him the winter breeze feels mild He hops by day and hops by night. But when it snows he sits quite tight. You hunt him on a holiday. But do you find him? Nay, oh nay; You have bad luck, he has his fun; You cannot get him on the nm. You look on the streets but can’t find him there. Because he is a little wild hare. SISTERS —Buddy Morgan Sisters are silly things, I know; Before the place to which they go They brush their teeth and powdei their nose, Polish their shoes and brush their clothes; They take a bath, and comb their hair, A million things for which to care; Then go out early, and come in late; I ought to know—’cause I have EIGHT! LOVE’S CAREFULNESS —Myrtle Smith If you love me as I love you We could start our lives anew. A love that’s new and kind and sweet, A love made strong Instead of weak. TTie many things we hope to share Are up to us with honest care. For many days we lived this way Until our lives began to sway; First a new car, then a mink coat. These necessities proved to be no joke. Little harsh words began to arise. As harsh as a butcher with two knives. Marriage, mink coats, and cars won’t do. Then it comes to building, just we two. Our love must have been built on sand Instead of on steady rock and land. That other loves won’t end this way. Know your woman and it will pay. SUNDAY MORNING —^Bonnie Leonard You wake up on a beautiful day; The sun is bright and the dew’s on the clover. Up in a tree and very near A mocking brid you hear! The song it sings is sweet and low. And you hear its melody as to church you go; Off in the distance a rippling brook Sparkles and tinkles and calls to you, “Look!” The lazy cows in the pasture graze And the hands of the thankful jjeople to heaven raise; The chimes in the old church steeple ring. And through the morning they seem to bring A message from our Heavenly King To his children here on earth. And as choir voices softly sing, “Come, come, come,” the church bells ring. CINQUAIN ON WAR —^W. Stanford Tate Out on ■ t Surabachl Old Glory proudly sails O’er men who died that she might still Prevail. And on Guadalcanal The same torn banner flies That priceless freedom always will Sustain. Attu With ice and snow Shared the mighty tussle For victory on giounds o’erspread With blood. The world Did quake and rock Under the heavy weight Of war, with horrors, tortures, pain. And death. Battles Men proudly fought For a land kept free from fear And a promise that the freedoms four Shall live! PARADIES ABSENT —Bob Peeler The chair And table stood In loneliness all day With one lone glass for him turned down— He rests. I AM THANKFUL —Donald Myers To walk out through the wooded lane. To taste the fruit of the persimmon tree, The sun, the moon, the stars, the rain. For these I am thankful. To curl in a chair and read a book. To listen to the radio. To raid the icebox in the nook. For these things I am thankful. To sit on the bank of the rippling stream. To throw in the hook and watch it settle. To see the. scales of the wiggling fish gleam. For these I am thankful. To run and play at the end of the day. To dive and fall into the water. To smell the scent of the new mown hay. For these I am thankful. LIMERICKS CAN YOU SING THESE? Tune: You Are My Sunshine —Jim Bussell The other night, dear, as I lay dream ing I dreamed I thought that you were drunk. But when I woke, dear, I was but thinking That that thought was one that stunk! Tune: When the Moon Comes Over the Mountain —^Mabel Hunter When the moon comes over the ball park Every ball brings a dream, dear, of you. Once again we go to the ballpark ’Cause the dream we once knew came true. Each day is long and weary. But the night is never dreary; When the moon comes over the ball park. Every ball brings a vision of you. Tune: In the Evening by the Moonlight —Alex Beck In the evening by the moonlight You should hear those darkies cussing; In the evening by the moonlight You should hear them fighting and fussing; How the white folks would enjoy it. They would sit all night and listen As them darkies did their fussing By the moonlight. O ain’t you coming out tonight, O ain’t you coming out tonight, O ain’t you coming out to hear Those niggers fight? All them darkies will be there With their black and kinky hair As they fight, in the evening by the moonlight. SCHOOL —“Pockets” Brown I think school is an awful strain When you have a principal like Mr. Payne. The teachers are all a pain in the neck. When I leave school I’m a perfect wreck. Oh! School is a strain to the brain. THE OCTOPUS —Joe Ayers There’s nothing so great as an octupus; He has as many legs as all four of us. He can squeeze you as tight As your girl at night. Hence—you’ll inhabit a sarcophagus. JOY AND COY —Margaret Darr There once was a young girl named Joy, Who met a young boy named Coy, And this was great bliss; What happened was this: A marriage of Joy and Coy. HEAD TROUBLE —Donald Myers There was a boy named Tommy Harris Who used the hair tonic named Jerris. One day when he felt. He found there no pelt. I wonder what he said about Jerris! TO A CIGARETTE —Solly Griffin Tune: I'll Be Seeing You (Thoughts of a football player) I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places That this heart of mine embraces all day through; In that small ash tray. The park across the way The burned out butts and stubs where children play From day to day; I’ll be seeing you when every lonely meal is through. In everything I say or do. I’ll always dream of you—just you; I’ll see you in the morning streets. And when the game is through. I’ll be looking at the coach. But I’ll be seeing you. A LOVELY WAY TO SPEND AN EVENING —Hilda PhiUips This is a silly way To spend our evenings; I could think of something I’d rather do. This is a boring way To spend our evenings; I could think of something More livelier than you, A look at each other, A kiss by the fire Catching a breath of smoke. Humming our usual tune; This is a silly way To waste our evenings; I want to save all my nights And spend them with someone new.
Lexington High School Student Newspaper
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Jan. 24, 1947, edition 1
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