Class of 1958 PHHS before-Christmas poem written by then 11th-grade student, Arthur Smith to his teacher, Cyril Smith
“You kicked me!” “Aw shut up!” are cries heard in room 208.
The bell has rung but what is this? Art Aitken coming late.
He takes a swipe at Arthur Smith who tripped him going by,
amid the gales of laughter and our teacher’s moan and sign.
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There he stands so confident, facing his daily task…
“What did I do to deserve this?” to himself he’ll surely ask.
Bob Love takes off his glasses and begins a long oration,
using some words not heard before about some foreign nation.
But Hark! What is from the corner of the room I spy?
A note being passed behind the desks, quick as the human eye.
But never fear, there is a patriot there in the crowd,
who spots the secret document and screams it out quite loud.
Meanwhile Schwiekert’s telling Ann DePuy the latest dirt,
so duty calls our patriot, put’s teacher on alert.
Now back to work, what is this stuff that Mr. Smith’s explaining?
The heck with that, Hey! Look outside,
It’s snowing, no just raining.
We’re really scholars, one and all, our brainpower does not vary,
so from your 4-A class we want your Christmas to be merry!