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VOL. XX, NO. 17
SATURDAY MORNING, MARCH 17, 1917
FIVE CENTS
THE ANNUAL BANQUET
Tin Whistles Hold Merry Session at
the Country CInt)
W. ! MHHkn Leonard TufU,lonald
, Rom, Channlng- M. Well and
Other iddrciifd the Clan
AND now on
Thursday, the 18th
of March, hard
from the field of
battle, all the Tin
Whistles assembled
under Old Glory to
the strains of Auld Lang Syne
for the Annual Banquet and re
joicing. The big ball room in the
Club House was garlanded and
festooned for the occasion.
Eright sparkled the vintage, and
loud carolled the full cry and
many and merry were the greet
ings as the old familiar figures
made their triumphant entry.
Hardly had the refreshing
bivalves gone their way than the
fun began. Pop Fownes arose
to renew his youth and immor
talize the fame of "Alfalfa-Hay."
The difficult and unfamiliar re
frain was readily taken up by the
skillful board, to everyone's sat
isfaction except T. B. Boyd, who
considered the motif uncalled for
so soon after' the passing of his
favorite cigar.
Thus encouraged Oscar J.
Klose of the mighty voice out of
Chicago, led the club in mighty
chorus rendering the master
piece of the year written for the
occasion by the club, Angus S.
Hibbard, to the tune of "I
Love a Lassie."
GOLF IS THE GRAND OLD GAME
I have a driver, a bonny, bonny driver,
You should see me with it standing on
the tee;
When my arms begin a swinging,
Then the ball it goes a singing -Just
as far as any honest man can see.
And then I have a brassy,
It's a club so mighty classy
That I know the - shot will surely go
a mile,
Then my chest is all puffed, out
And I hear my caddy shout',
"He's a Golfer, he's just the proper
style."
CHORUS
Come every golfer, take off your cap
and doff her
To the ancient and honorable name,
For it's ever fair weather,
When golfers get together,
Golf is the grand old game.
I have a mashie, a bonny, bonny mashie,
With a half a swing the ball's up to
the hole,
And the ripping, roaring fun
When I'm up and down in one,
Which is just the truth, it is, upon my
soul.
And then the darling putter, there's
No word that you can utter
OFFICIAL WAR PICTURES
Famous Artist and His Wife Will Lecture
Upon Scenes at the Front in France
What Become of Frontier Chlldrei
f lien Contending- Arnilea HItt
Their Way Throug-b the Country
WHAT became of
the children when
von Kluck's army
swept over the
fields and homes of
France towards
Paris in 1914. Who
keeps care of the tens of thou
sands of orphans and wandering
little fugitives from the battle
fields? :
If you were to visit1 the' lines
at the front, and had a sympa-
(Concluded on page five)
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THE TIN WHISTLES