DeGolyer - Mrs. Rainey's Auditorium Class
At DeGolyer, we had a class called Auditorium held in the auditorium. Perhaps it had another official name, but all of the kids just called it Auditorium. In this class, we elected officers, probably for the sole purpose of learning parliamentary procedures which we had to practice. We also had skits and talent shows. And we had to memorize and recite poems and passages that are still seared into the minds of DeGolyer alumni today. Remember these?
One Misty Moisty Morning
One misty moisty morning when cloudy was the weather,
I chanced to meet an old man clothed all in leather,
He began to complement and I began to grin,
Singing how do you do? And how do you do? And how do you do again?
Betty Botta bought a bit of butter
Said Betty Botta,"This butter's bitter!"
If I put it in my batter, twill make my batter bitter,
So Betty Botta bought a bit of butter better than the bitter butter
To make her batter better.
Lost, somewhere between sunrise and sunset -
Two golden hours, each set with 60 diamond minutes.
No reward is offered
For they are lost for ever
from Pippa Passes
The year's at the spring
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his Heaven -
All's right with the world!
Dark and Dreary Was the Night
Dark and dreary was the night,
A storm was drawing nigh.
In vivid streaks the lightening flashed,
Athwart the leaden sky;
But see from out a lonely wood,
There steals vengeful man,
A bloodstained club is firmly grasped,
Within his strong right hand,
And like a spectre from the unknown world
He glides upon his foe.
A murderous light gleams in his eye,
As he makes ready for the blow.
The club is raised, and then, oh-
It falls with a sickening thud,
And there upon the damp cold ground,
Lays murdered- "A Potato Bug."
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
from Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 2
Speak the speech, I pray you,
as I pronounced it to you,
trippingly on the tongue.
But if you mouth it,
as many of your players do,
I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines.