Bryn Mawr College YearbookClass del 1904 . siamo Stati la squadra di hockey cracked di Bryn Mawr;In sport atletico, nel destino più patetico, Ognuno un particolare star.We cantare dei nostri obiettivi, E cantiamo il nostro team, E cantiamo l'altalena dei nostri bastoni; nelle finali a venire ora speriamo che youll vincere, E vi auguriamo buona fortuna, 1906! {Tabella di Denbigh.)Sintonizzatevi: Amatelo Un Peccato! È stato un peccato, un peccato, mettere il tuo Juniors fuori dal gioco; hai colpito quella palla, e inviato attraverso, E ci ha lasciato la sensazione di un blu così terribile. La notte era buia, i nostri volti erano cupi, Come Davide, lo abbiamo incontrato. Il seminterrato era ancora un

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Bryn Mawr College YearbookClass of 1904 . we are, Were the cracked hockey team of Bryn Mawr;In sports athletic, in fate most pathetic, Each ones a particular star.We sing of our goals, and we sing of our team, And we sing of the swing of our sticks;In the finals to come now we hope that youll win, And we wish you good luck, 1906! {Denbigh Table.)Tune—Aint it a Shame! It was a shame, a measly shame, To put your Juniors out of the game;You hit that ball, and sent it through, And left us feeling so awful blue. The night was dark, our faces grim, Like David we encountered him.The basement was so still and dim! Evil and murderous our intent, We killed him when his strength was spent; But no one seemed to care a cent! We buried him with pomp and show, We spoke of him in accents low. (We thought he would have wished it so!) Then came another in his stead, A Phoenix from his ashy bed, A docile bird and quite well fed. His plumage changed from time to time;Still, that was but a minor crime;His voice, at least, was quite sublime. A. K. Buzby.. 2 ITH meaningless curiosity, twice I watched the gay throng ofthe upper classes, the evening before their dreaded orals.With a buoyant feeling, I joined in the cheering for theClass of 1903 at their oral supper. With a peculiar, inex-plicable sensation I sat at supper in Pembroke on the 4thof December, 1903, the evening before our own fataldoomsday. The spacious dining hall, with its oneentrance crammed with the Sophomores, and the other with theFreshmen, resounded with the sweet, melodious yells, and soft, merry laughter of the fair feminine voices. My mood changed with everysong and cheer;—now I was made as happy as I possibly could wish bythe bright, encouraging songs of the three lower classes; now I was readyto burst into tears over the sad, mournful songs like Never was tor-ture awful as this one, or Youll wish that you were dead, buriedin a mossy bed, or still worse, Water the grave of the Class of1904. Yes, to-morrow, curfew shall rin

Parole chiave associate all'immagine

• bookcentury1900
• bookdecade1900
• bookpublisherbrynm
• bookyear1904