Ihr liewe Leit:
Der Lincoln waar mol am zwelfde Hanning gebore, der Washington waar
am zweenuzwansichschde gebore, un dann un wann sehnt mer im Kallener ass der
Reagan am sexde gebore waar. Kennt’s sei ass all die Gebottsdaage die Ursach
iss ass mer im Hanning der Presidentsdaag feiere – ders Yaahr am
eenunzwansichschde, gell?
Un mer wisse all ass der Washington en guder Bu waar un hot nie net
liege kenne. (Hoffentlich meent des net ass der Lincoln un der Reagan immer
beese Buwe waare un hen immer geloge!)
Die Louise A. Weitzel (1862-1934) hot mol gschriwwe:
Es waar emol en Bieweli,
En Hatchet hot er ghatt;
Es iss en scheeni Schtori,
Ich glaab’s en gansi Latt.
Es waar emol en Kaschebaam,
Des hot gschtanne datt;
Sei Daadi iss hiekumme,
Un des Beemeli waar fatt.
Awwer hot es net en Abbelbaam sei kenne? Die Weitzeln glaabt’s gewiss
net!
Deel saage’s waere Ebbel
Der Baam gedraage hot;
Nee, Kasche sin kee Ebbel,
So ebbes glaawich net!
Denkscht nau ‘s deet ebber liege
Wege so re Gleenichkeit?
Ich schtick zu selle kasche
In alle Ewichkeit!
Gut, es waar warricklich en Kaschebaam. Awwer waar es warricklich
en Beil ass der Washington geyuust hot? Yuust mer ner gewehnlich en Ax fer en
Baam nunnerhacke?
Der David B. Brunner (1835-1903) saagt uns genaa wie sell kumme iss.
Der Vadder saagt zu seim Soh/Suh:
“Der Kaschebaam, der greppt mich doch
Fer en langi, langi Weil;
Ferwas hoscht du en nunnerghackt
Mit deim Verroschde Beil?”
Der George hot noh seim Vadder gsaat,
“Graad dem Weg iss des kumme:
Ich hab die Ax net finne kenne,
Noh hawwich’s Beil genumme.”
Kee Wunner ass der Buen Tscheneral un en Bresident gewwe hot! Er
hot gewiss gewisst wie sich auszuhelfe!
Macht’s gut,
Der Alt Professer
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Dear people:
Lincoln was born of the twelfth of February, Washington was born on
the twenty-second, and now and then one sees in the calendar almanac that
Reagan was born on the sixth. Could it be that all of those birthdays are
the reason that we celebrate President’s Day in February -- this year on
the twenty-first, right?
And we all know that Washington was a good boy and could never lie.
(I hope that that doesn’t mead that Lincoln and Reagan were always bad
boys and always lied!)
Louise A. Weitzel (1862-1934) once wrote:
There was once a little boy,
A hatchet he had;
It is a nice story,
I believe it a lot.
There was once a cherry tree,
It stood right there;
His daddy went there,
And the tree was gone.
But could it not have been an apple tree? Weitzel doesn’t believe
that at all!
Some say it was apples
That the tree bore:
No, cherries are not apples,
I don’t believe such a thing!
Do you think someone would lie
About such a trifle?
I’ll stick to the cherries
For all eternity!
Good, it was really a cherry tree. But was it actually a hatchet
that Washington used? Doesn’t one usually use an axe to cut down a tree?
David B. Brunner
(1835-1903) tells us exactly how that came about. The father says to his
son:
“The cherry tree, I will regret its loss
For a long, long time;
Why did you chop it down
With your rusty hatchet?”
George then told his father,
“Just this way that came about:
I could not find the axe,
So I took the hatchet.”
No wonder that the boy became a general and a president! He
certainly knew how to help himself out!
Take care,
The Old Professor
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