Connecticut western news., 1911-04-27
The Wurra Wurra Club

| dance by pr. Ross, accompanied by Ed. Warner on brass band. But the result was the same-it frequently happens that way. Nevertheless, Sam. Camp, chairman pro tenn, called for motion of any variety. and served notice on the guests that business would be hustled along like a house a'flre, Landlord Baker moved that it be referred to the committee on house a'fire. Nothing doing.
 Harry Lyles got up to inquire what the Club thought about 'the good or bad taste shown by the Business Mems Association in appointing Good Friday as cleanup day"
 "Put him out !' yelled Gene Rowe, from the amen corner. "Get the hook p' shouted Wigglesworth. ''Chestnuts !'' cried Thurlough. Rats ever so many rats P' screamed Seneca Strong. Other eJaculations of similar import were ejaculated by indignant members, until Sam reminded the meeting that they were not at baseball game, and that the whole blooming cleanup question was out of order.
 A motion was made by Henry Whit ford "that committee of fifty be ap- pointed by the chair, to collaborate with the Business Mems Associations com mittee on plan and scoop for the Fourth of July celebration, and help shoot off the firecraokers and mix lemonade. " So voted the committee will be an- nounced later.
 Secretary Ives announced that the Wurra Wurra Woman's Relief Corps would be instituted and the officers in- stalled in the Club-room after adjourn ment. George Ford and Ed. Warner proceeded to straighten their neckties and wipe their hair back by hand, where upon the chair declared that the in- stitution proceeding would be for ladies only, and no gentlemen would be per. mitted to remain after adjournment of the present session. The secretary went on to state that there might be delay in installing the officers of the Corps, as the preliminary caucusing for president had resulted in a deadlock, equal strength having shown in the voting, by one telephone operator, one trained nurse, one saleslady. one stenographer, one milliner and one scattering, but it was hoped the snarl would be untangled in time for the installation.
 Secretary Bullock, of the Bridge Cele- bration committee, reported another competitive poem" i'll honor of the celebration, received from Fred Scamer- horn, author of "The Bridge" "Poe's Raven," Beautiful Snow" "Give> Me Three Grains of Corn, Mother" "Hia- watha," "The Old Oaken Bucket, " "Laugh and the World Laughs With You" "Curfew Shall Not Ring To- night, ""Put on Your Old Grey Bonnet, " and other operas. By unanimous vote the secretary was ordered to read it. It went this way
 I stood on the bridge at midnight,
 Where often I'd stood, of yore, And feeling of sadness stole OCT me
 As it never had done before
 And fond memory carried me backward
 Ger the lapse of the bygone years, To the days of my happy childhood
 With their childish joys and fears And 1t showed me. as i'll vision,
 The scenes and the friends of my youth And the faces and forms of my playmates As vivid as living truth; And I joined in the games and the frolics
 With the same old rapturous joy That thrilled me in days long forg otten,
 When I was barefooted boy I was paddIing again in the brooklet
 As it rippled gaily along,
 And wading beneath the old road bridge
 And whistling the same old song. Twas humber structure. back wonder; T Its timbers were crooked and old Its foundation stones were unsteady
 Its planking was eaten with mould. It trembled and shook, as with palsy,
 Beneath every cumbersome load, And it left wide space to be forded
 For ir bridged only half of the road But the memories lowering o'er it,
 That the vision awakened in me, Brought glimpses of happier moments
 Than ever again shall soc.
 And in fancy tished, as I used to,
 And captured the fat polliwogs And wondered-would they grow up
 bullheads
 Or turn into turtles or frogs?
  Now this is the gist of my story,
 And this is the soul of my song The bridge you're bedecking with glory,
 Whose praise you've been singing so
 long,
 Will stand and endure through the
 ages
 Its strength and it's beauty will last, Though the flood of the meadow. brook
 rages
 : And the years of the future go past.