1971
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
This tale began when men were bold,
And people weren't afraid to get ahold
Of fame by performing funny tasks,
And then not covering up with their masks.
'Twas nineteen sixty nine, in our sophomore year
In Rosemead town, at this school here,
A group of poeple joined together,
And they spent their lunch in any weather,
Waiting for something exciting to happen,
Creating discussions for them to rap in.
A fellow named Reeder was a part of the group.
He was the type to throw popcorn in people's soup.
Nobody cared for his sick food pranks,
But talking, and yelling always drew blanks.
And, once, who knows how, we discovered the bush,
And Reeder was victim, we gave him the push.
He sprawled out nicely, with a look of stun.
The lunch gang had initiated it--it was done.
The lunchers across the way looked up.
The aux groups in the parking lot did stop.
the school glared at Reeder, he slowly stood.
Then the lunch gang laughed as hard as they could.
We didn't stop there, but made a name for ourselves.
First lunch was rung out with tintinnabulating bells.
All the school waited, they came out with the rush.
And Nyiri went tumbling into the bush.
The school roared--some said, "how great."
Nyiri bounded out, cursing his fate.
McCauley laughed loudest, then Haugsted, and Sayre,
And Buck, Reeder, and Reinmuth watched Nyiri's top layer,
Break out with the insidious rash,
That comes from the things that grow on the bush.
We couldn't let that lie, we'd started a legend.
That was bigger than Stonehenge's stone henge and
The ghost stories circulatin' round Salem.
We had to get someone else and nail 'em.
Schulkey masterminded plots to get Gooney.
We all thought that would be exceedingly funny.
Yet when Schulkey went in, he abandoned the plot.
And moved from Rosemead, we joked him a lot.
The last great plot of sixty nine,
Came out of the race ran to the line.
Reeder pushed in Cocoa, but he missed the bush,
And madness grew when Cocoa learned who gave the push.
The funny thing is, Sayre and Buck did the thing,
Yet Shaw chased Reeder till the bell did ring.
Well, the year just had to come to an end,
And our high school half-way point had reached the bend.
Our Junior year then came around.
And a lunch gang second lunch was next found.
Buck, Plummer, Nyiri, and Sayre sat and stood
On a Lunch Gang Bench and ate their food.
This bench was in a different place than the year before.
It was across from the building where sat the choir.
The four talked about the immortalized plant,
And dedicated another, but of course it can't
Be half as important as the original one,
Of the days of old when we had our fun.
In sixty-nine--seventy we did things abunch.
Or at least all we could do during second lunch.
And no one got pushed into the bush all year,
'Cept Plummer's little brother, who thot he had nothin' to fear.
It was 1970-- we forgot for a while,
When Buck achieved stardom and advanced a mile.
Wuth "Up the Down" all we thought of were lines,
But Nyiri swore he'd immortalize the bush some time.
There it was decided-- in the heirarchy.
The bush would be put into poetry.
It took a year, but we had our fling.
And now we spend the time and this we sing:
There was a sultry day in '69,
When men of a certain type were feelin' fine.
And attention was turned to a corner of the school.
It's name was Rosemead and it taught the Golden Rule.
Well, a gang of men all eatin' lunch one day,
Had an enemy whose personality may
Have starched the gang so much they would've ran,
But it happened one just hit upon a plan.
The man came by a waitin' fer to gripe,
So the lunch gang kinda stared at this forlorn type.
They maneuvered him to a corner where a plant
Had been a sittin' never carin' to rave or rant.
The man went to the corner
They gave him a push,
And there he went,
Into the bush.
This action brought attention to the gang,
And so, they thought, out of it, they'd get a bang.
So whenever a man they wanted was a sittin'there.
They'd go at it just like the English baitin' a bear.
He'd go into a corner
And they'd give him a push,
And there he'd go,
Into the bush.
It's happened now for nigh on three whole
year,
And it's sumpin' that when you're with em you have to fear.
If you don't watch out they'll be givin' you a push,
An' there you'll go-- right in the bush!
This song is sung as a ballad of grace,
In hopes that time will never erase,
The effect that the bush had on Rosemead High.
It's a sentiment that almost makes you want to cry.
We spent the year seventy with other lunch tasks,
Like watching Mical run from Larry Hirigoyen (or vice versa)
--these are facts.
Going to the window for Coo Coos and Zingers,
And having the lady look at us like we were Notre Dame bellringers
And seeing a mess where the ice cream machine was.
It was across from us- we watched the loss.
Then nineteen seventy school year ended.
And the very next year the lunch gang blended.
We were the same as in our Sophomore year,
And we cherished the eating place we loved so dear.
We were all together, 'cept Buck was gone.
Fairy dust had got him--he joined choir--it was done.
His loss not great, we filled the stone seat.
And the bush shone out, flattened down neat.
We thought of it as a shrine, and flattered it's presence.
It showered us with it's effervescence.
Nyiri got pushed in first this time.
On a beautiful day, with sunny clime.
Again Gooney lauged, with Kolesnik on the nudge.
This was terrible-- this was too much.
Nothing has happened since then concerning the bush.
No one since Nyiri has gotten the push.
Reeder got half in, and so did Robert.
(Sayre, that is)--but this was no bother.
The bush is up for grabs, that's for sure.
As an initiating method, it's white and pure.
Soon we will go, be in high school no more.
The years in number were onlyn four.
We hope more people get the 'push' infernal.
The Rosemead 'bush' will always be eternal.
copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
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