Class Poem

The Wellsburg Class of 63 Got started on that day, Way back in 1951 And here we are today!
When we started kindergarten Being only five We were alert, eager, dumb, and gabby-- We left there half alive!
Across the gym and up the stairs We slowly made our way, And we found we did not know We were Miss Brandee's prey.
In Mrs. Bakker's little closet We had our second grade, And when we were promoted thence We thought we had it made.
The third grade was a sure 'nuf riot Mrs. Tjaden was a scream--, The bus barn was our dreary setting It was a bad, bad dream.
In fourth grade it was our great treat To welcome to our midst Miss Phyllis Bausman, as our teacher, Who was an optimist.
Mrs. Kubler was the instructor-- Grade five was a blast, Our room, it slanted slightly downward And so, friends, did the class!
Mrs. Clarke was in the attic To welcome us with speed For "bug dust" was her constant motto And phonics was her creed.
In seventh grade we made the move To our new building grand, And scared to death we met the folks Who'd lead us by the hand.
In eighth grade we bid a fond farewell To our grade school years, A short four more and we are through More reason to shed tears.
From Junior High to Senior High We made the giant step With Mr. Daggett as our host He filled us full of pep.
In Mr. Peter's biology class We had a great delight Of splitting, splicing, frogs and snakes Till we abhorred the sight.
With parties, plays and banquest gay The year was filled with glee, But even though we had good times Twelfth grade still was our plea.
After thirteen long, fun-filled years We hurriedly make our way Down the long, long path of life Into a brighter day.
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