Before now the following poem had not been shared with many. In the mid-70's it was written by Mark A. Buckley 1945-1979. Drum Major for CHS 1963. Enjoy! It has always been special to our family.

  

           While listening to sounds of a symphony,
           A director of music I see,
           Creating musical wonders with ease,
           We called him, Our Chief, Mr. P.
           Robert C. Price was actually his name,
           A band he directed, you see.
           Marching precision he'd demand all the same,
           The director, Our Chief, Mr. P.
           Out on the football field in the lights,
           He'd dictate formations to make,
           March eight-to-five in the cold of the night,
           And this time make no mistake.
           For one of his favorite quotes he would say,
           From the pressbox where he would combine,
           A serious note with a light hearted way,
           His echo would say, "One more time."
           Those evenings of grooming and practice complete,
           The night of the game there would be,
           No finer a band in the land could compete,
           Than the one of Our Chief, Mr. P.
           If you go to the field in the still of the dark,
           And listen to the night there'll be,
           A sound from the speakers that clearly remarks,
           The voice of Our Chief, Mr. P.
           I can hear it so plain in this quiet refrain,
           In my memory I'll always find,
           And especially that quote, his favorite, remains,
           His echo that says, "One more time."