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Winston-Salem, N. C., Saturday, November 5
We lack tlie greenness,
lack tlic boldness,
And we lack the Icve-sickness too.
We liave the most pep,
\Vc liave the best rep,
Yet, we liave the dignity too.
Our game of ball
Proves us sports one and all.
Yellow and black ne’er will fall,
And when the game’s won—
Our praises will be sung.
For Seniors of thirty-one.
'Jlie .Junior Class arc we
Colors red and white
Always on the top we’ll be
W'e’lf never cease to fight, fight,
Wc’il work hard and reach our goal
■And prove as in the past,
That with our might and main
We’ll whip another, whip another
Skyrocket — (whistle) — boom!
Seniors — Seniors — Seniors!
Senior, rah - rah, Seniors,
rah - rah!
Who - rah. who - rah?
Seniors, rah - rah !!
Who’se gonna win-win ?
Who’se gonna win-win?
Who’se gonna win-win-wow?
^Vc’rc gonna win-win.
We’re gonna win-and how!
One and all and with one voice
Minnie Ha- Ha- and all the little
Echoes greet you! Crowd around
the tables and jjow-wow along w'ith
your chow-chow to your heart’.s
content. Heap much turkey with ac
cessories to match and the shriek of
war-w'hoops (with all apologies to
Litz) makes this the niftiest war-
council I’ve ever attended. Ever-
body here in his and her choicest
war-paint ... we ought to have
these little gatherings more often
can look. H're comes that tiall
Brave, Simply Curlee, want to know
I'.ow' come that battle sear? T’was
thus . . . Once when riding along
with the handsome 15ra\e, Deeply
I’.rnest on the war-path, the hand
some ]5rave inquired of the tall
Brave, “Any Indians in the Valley?”
“Xay, nary one,” eame the
“What? No Indians?” cxelaimed
Deeply Ernest in mech agitation.
“No. No valley.” And then the
band began to play.
That’s Big Chief Shiny Top over
there. He may thunder out now
.and then, and he shoots his littls bow
and arrow's quite readih' at these af
fairs, but you needn’t worry as long
as you are not in tlie orchestra.
Wateh Babe Silversteen! She
must think she’s a papoose the way
she’s trying to get into that wigwam.
Hey! Stop Ruth Carter . . she’s an
Indian Squaw . . not Cupid! Spirit
of the tot^m-pole! Page the peace
pipe. Eat, drink, and be merry,
for tomorrow you may be scalped!
From the I.and of the Laughing
Water (100% Pure),
Indian Maiden Pollyana
Day by day—every way.
We get better as we play.
As the Sophomores go fighting along
\^'e begin—then to win
Everything that we are in
Yes, the Sophomores go fighting
So don’t be blue—but be square and
Keep up your courage. You’ll come
■When things go wrong we always
sing this song
That the Sophomores go fighting
Keep on fighting
As the Sophomores go fighting along.
Here’s to the class we belong to
We’re willing to serve
Our dear Alma Mater
Her fame to preserve.
We’re loyal to Salem
We give her our best
We rally our forces and
Sing! Sing! Sing!
So here’s to the Freshmen.
The class of thirty-four.
We’ll honor, uphol’d them
We’re true to the ideals
That Salem holds so liigli
It’s the Spirit of Thirty-Four.
Do - rae - me, who are we?
We are, we are, we are
W E !
Ain’t no lie, ain’t no bluff.
Sophomore Class is red hot
Freshmen, Freshmen, Thirty-Four.
Hi’. Hi! Hi!
matter what interpretation we putl , I nn* I