Listen,
dear kiddies, while we relate
The fabulous saga of Class '58
The first of September in '55
At Signal Hill they did arrive
Glenridge's first to matriculate.
This
is the group we commemorate,
A right motley crew to educate!
Some Braun's, some Brains
Some nice, some pains
The frisky and frolicking class '58!
Their
beginnings were humble
That none will deny,
One a base ditched by Air Force.
It was obvious why.
The barracks were crumbling,
The furnace was grumbling,
And most of the ceilings were sky.
"This
is a school?" cried parents, irate,
Winding their way through the sagging old gate.
"This is a place
For dear Little Grace
With her crinolines three
And her dress made of lace?"
How dare they put Joey
With I.Q.
tremendous
In a school
so utterly
Grim? It's
horrendous!
"I've
paid my taxes
I'll get them
back
If my darling
kids
Go to school
in a shack!"
"I'll
write the mayor,
The governor,
IKE!
If you make
me register
Dear little
Mike.
He's delicate,
se?
And allergic
to dust,
Sandspurs,
mold,
Sunshine and
rust.
He'll never
survive
In this loathsome
dive!
The
Boss Man just grinned
While they beat their gum
And quietly planned
The curriculum.
Parents might blow
Their collective lids
He had his bets
On the spirit of kids.
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