A selection of items from the Original Contributions section of the Chester City High School Magazine.
- Patricia Bethell
- A Cautionary Tale
- Diana Wynne
- How I became the School Ghost
- Dorothy Evans,Wendy Gibson, Rosemary Gibson
- 1964 and All That
- Sally Richardson
- Ruth Bender
- My Beatle Crazy Mother
A Cautionary Tale, by Elizabeth Bailes, III¹
This is the tale of Linda Blues, Who insisted on wearing pointed shoes. Her four inch heels were a wobbly sight She cared not, convinced that she looked all right. Her skirts were too short, her sweaters too long, She always remembered the latest pop song, And she firmly believed that the Temperance Seven" Were better than all the harps in heaven. She teetered and tottered about all day, Whatever her Mother and teachers did say She foolishly scoffed at their well-meant advice And wore her queer shoes come rain, snow or ice. One night as she crossed the Suspension Bridge She failed to notice a little ridge Which cunningly caught on her winklepicked toe, Down helpless she fell. A calamitous blow. The damage received was alas quite extreme From her delicate nose the red blood did stream, For she had suffered such terrible blows That she'd cracked all her ribs and fractured her toes. Now all you young ladies who hear this sad tale And filled with compassion Belinda's fate 'wail, Do heed the advice of your Mother and teachers And do not, like Linda, risk spoiling your features.
A Cautionary Tale, by Patricia Bethell, III¹
Once, Jamie, saying he felt ill, Was told to rest, lest he take chill. Soon he was tucked up warm in bed With just one pillow for his head. But when his illness ceased to be Young Jamie came to visit me. Quoth Jamie "Doc, I'm ill again." I quickly asked him "Where's your pain?" "I think you're making me a fool, And all to keep away from school!" I sent him home, he went to bed, Feigning to rest his "aching" head. But Jamie's mother soon got wise To his false moans and groans and sighs And when with real pain he did grieve His mother just could not believe That he was truly feeling ill She made him go to school until Kind teacher sent him home to stay. Too late! Poor Jamie passed away. So now all readers please beware And do not fall into the snare Whereby, poor Jamie met his doom And now lies cold within his tomb.
How I became the School Ghost, by Diana Wynne, III¹
Once upon a time, long, long ago, I was a peaceful, unhappy little girl at C–r C–y H–h School. This is the story of how I realised my greatest ambition and became a member of the "National Schools' Ghost Squad" in which each member has a school of her very own. I was in Form III¹ at the time, and already dying to leave school and become a ghost; now, if I waited until I left school, I would have to attend the "Ghost Training Academy for three years before I became a professional haunter and then after three years, if I were good enough, I would be killed and eventually become a trainee poltergeist. As I could not be bothered waiting so long, I had to take the alternative and commit suicide. That was going to take a lot of doing, as in the Academy it was done unexpectedly and did not hurt, but if I killed myself it was going to be excruciating. I decided that if I shot myself, it would hurt the least. Unfortunately I did not have enough courage to pull the trigger, so someone would have to do it for me. I could not ask any of my friends to do it for I am sure that THEY would not want to kill me. It would have to be a mistress. I decided on Mrs. H–s. All I had to do was "accidentally" to throw the rounders baton at her, which would be enough to rouse anyone's anger. The next day in P.E. lesson we conveniently had a rounders match. When it came to my turn, I threw the baton with all my might at Mrs. H–s, accidentally on purpose of course. The blow knocked her out cold, but when she came round she was understandably in a terrible temper with me, and on the spot challenged me to a pistol duel pleased–The Headmistress kindly gave her consent and that afternoon the duel took place before a delighted audience of bloodthirsty Juniors. Mrs. H–s, a crack shot, hit me right between the eyes, owch! did it hurt! I'm glad to say however that I was quite, quite dead. Now I felt myself gliding slowly along long, underground tunnels and eventually arrived at the President of Ghosts' chamber. At first he said that I was far too small and not brave enough to frighten a flea. But when I told him how bravely I had committed suicide, be agreed to let me become an apprentice poltergeist and said that he would find me a vacant school. Joy of joys! The school he gave me was my own dear C–r C–y H–h School. Now, I am a very happy little ghost leading all my friends to their deaths, instead of working myself to death at school.
1964 And All That, or How to get in the School Magazine without
really trying, by Dorothy Evans, Wendy Gibson, & Rosemary Gibson, IV²
The year began with a twist and a shout, And the Dave Clark Five pushed the Beatles out. British Railways were awfully mad, 'Cause the football fans were being bad. They "bashed" the windows and "bashed" the doors, And scattered the seats all over the floors. The Beatles went away to France And the fans all made a song and dance. "Ou est Ringo?" they all sighed, But here in England the girls just cried. Back in the Cabinet Sir Alec Home Was biting his nails and pacing the room, Wondering if the opposing force Would smother him with H.P. sauce. The Beatles then went to the U.S.A. Where they caused riots throughout their whole stay And then had a session with Cassius Clay, "We would have fought Cas.," they were heard to say, "But we didn't want to spoil him before the big day." And Cassius says, ( this speech is his latest) "The Beatles are great, but I am the greatest!" They found with surprise that when they got back That the top of the pops. Was- a girl, Cilla Black. Elizabeth Taylor has done it once more This time it's Ed Fisher, divorce number four. Now Peter Sellers is married again Next stops from the altar were New York and Maine. And Catherine Gale has deserted poor Steed. For 007 of her was in need. The British Troops to Cyprus did go To try to bring order to both friend and foe. And now we are going, We will not be back. Our Brains are exhausted, 'So that's your lot 'wack'.
MacBeatle, by Sally Richardson IV²
Is this a Beatle who I see before me, His guitar towards my hand? Come let me have your autograph, You have not written, but I see thee still, Art thou not George, Paul, Ringo or John, Or art thou but a boy in need of a haircut, A false creation, proceeding from my work oppressed brain? I see thee yet, your hair indeed, Is that which fits a Beatle. I buy the record that thou singest And that my father hatest I see thee still, with guitars and with drums That were not there before . . But how long will your 'music' last? Words to the beat of songs may soon die. (After W S …..)
My Beatle Crazy Mother, by Ruth Bender IV¹
My mother's Beatle crazy, My mother's Beatle mad. She raves about those four young men As if she never had Three children and one grand child. I just don't understand Why all she does is "Twist and Shout" And wants to hold my hand ! There are Beatles in the kitchen, There are Beatles in the hall, Yes, George, Paul, John and Ringo smile At me from every wall. "Don't bother me," "She loves you", "Please, please me", "Love me do"; They blaze out from the record player, And these are but a few. Oh, George, Paul, John and Ringo, Please help me if you can To make my mother understand That I'm an Elvis fan!