Poem by Janice Ferrell Brown

We have come back to our homes in the hills,

Life has been full of chuckles and thrills,

We’ve had what you’d call a chequered past,

And the sass has gone from the sassafras.

The old rag rugs have seen their day,

And the covered bridge is giving way,

We can’t chew tobacco, so we rub a little snuff,

 But there’s not enough snuff to go far enough.

We had high hopes in the days of old,

Our eyes were bright and our hearts were bold,

Now things have come to a pretty pass,

And the sass has gone from the sassafras.

But back in the halls of our old alma mater,

It seems that we’ve done everything that we ought to,

It seems that our dreams have all come to pass,

And the sass has returned to the sassafras.

To the tune of “Try to Remember” Words by Carolyn Moore O'Neil

We will remember, the times in September, when with hearts beating madly, we’d climb the hill gladly,

We will remember, the times in September, when school books we’d buy, with a tear in each eye,

We will remember, the times in September, striving and yearning, it was all so unnerving,

We will remember, yes, always remember--Washington Irving.

Cubbon and Duckworth and Robinson and Bailey and Tiennebrunne and Frederick and Emilly Taylor,

Nutter and Swiger and Williams and Bauer, and Judy and Albright and Carl Wilson Dumire,

Hollins and Colombo and Stutler and May—Ramsey and Hite and Howard and Henry—

Duthie and Orme and Limbert and Jarvis—and Hendershot.

We will remember our teachers so tender, the sports and the frolic and home ec. And colic,

We will remember in every September, the band and the choir and Carl Wilson Dumire,

We will remember in every September, to be loyal and true to our own gold and blue,

Our memories unswerving, from a school so deserving—Washington Irving

                                                                                      Washington Irving

                                                                                      Washington Irving