A quaint, one room, busy place,
Full of good old southern grace,
Lay to the east of Hawthorn Hill,
Somewhat beyond the daffodills.
Over a field and past the cows,
Beneath the deep magnolia boughs;
Beside smooth, clear Crab Creek,
In the shadow of Cheyenne Peak;
Down a tree lined country lane,
Stood the school of Miss Chamberlain.
Here in not such long ago times,
Tykes learned the nursery rhymes;
About a mile from Blackburn Highway,
If you but follow the sun ray.
Besides English, Reading and History--
Eager minds also grasped Rome's glory!
An outstanding nation is our own,
At birth, each future is unknown.
But in said remote, country school,
A future president learned the Golden Rule;
About ten miles south of Chesterton,
Somewhat east of the rising sun.