Ihr liewe Leit:
Wie ihr schunn all wisst iss Yuni der Heiraadsmunet. Heit fange mer en
Schtick aa ass der Buhneschtiel (der Thomas Hess Harter, 1854-1933) mol
gschriwwe hot. Mer kann's in seim Buch Boonastiel: A Volume of Legend, Story,
and Song finne:
Mer meent ich hett als schlecht Glick in der Welt. Die letscht Woch
hawwich mich widder in en verdeihenkerti Mess grickt. Du weescht em alde Sammy
Sensewetzer sei Bu uff der anner Seit em Barrig hot em Billy Brumbernickel sei
eltschdi Dochder gheiert. Es waar bekannt gemacht ass die Hochzich deet
abkumme about nein Uhr em Freidaag Owet, un so gleene Babbierlin waare
nausgschickt fer die Leit inveite.
Ich hab kens grickt ghatt, awwer weil ich un der Billy als
abgewexelt hen fer vorschneide in der Aern fer alders, hawwich gedenkt sie
hette mich vergesse, un ich bin der Palli abgschlippt un bin niwwer.
Nau meind you, es waar en high-falootin Affair. Des Meedel waar
fatt noch der Schul gwesst un hot en Latt neie Sache gsehne un hot sie mit an
der Barrig gebrocht. Ich winsch yuscht du hettscht ihre Dress sehne kenne. Sie
waar mit Puffs un Rolls un Tucks un Frills bis sie geguckt hot wie en aldi
Fassant as bricht. Ihre Dress waar weiss mit me Schwans draa ass mer en Gnipp
neibinne hett kenne, un es Ewwerdeel waar zugedeckt mit me Satt vun me
wolkschtreemicher Palli-Aenn.
Sie hen mich ewennich schepp aageguckt wie ich neikumme bin, awwer
wie ich ihne gsaat hab ich waer en Reporter fer en Zeiding, waar's all recht.
Der Parre Mohler hot sie gheiert, un wie er faddich waar, hot er die yung Fraa
gebusst. Ich wett en Gwaart Buddermilsch ass wann die yung Fraa so alt un so
runslich waer wie mei liewi Palli, dann hett er sie net gebusst.
Well, die Leit sin dann dennoh all uffgschteppt un sie
gecongratulate. Es waar ebbes Neies zu mir, fer wie ich un die Palli gheiert
hen, hot mer noch vun ken so Narrheide gewisst. Awwer weil sie all
nuffgschteppt sin un ebbes gsaat, hawwich gedenkt here goes fer der
Buhneschtiel - bin uffgschteppt un im Blatz vun saage "I wish you much
joyfulness," wie die annere, hawwich beim Deihenker gsaat, "How-di-do."
Ich hab gewisst ass es letz iss eb's haus waar, awwer es waar zu
schpot. Die Meed hen aafange lache un die Mannsleit hen ihre Schnuppdicher
raus un ghuscht.
Neegscht Woch misse der Vadder ehre; mer mache am 22. weider!
Macht's gut,
Der Alt Professer
|
Dear people:
As you all already know, June is the wedding month. Today we will begin a
piece that Boonastiel (Thomas Hess Harter, 1854-1933) once wrote. One can
read it in his book Boonastiel: A Volume of Legend, Story and Song:
One would think that I sometimes have bad luck in this world. Last week I
once again got myself into a doggoned mess. You know that old Sammy
Sensewetzer's boy married Billy Brumbernickel's oldest daughter. It was
announced that the wedding would take place at nine o'clock on Friday
evening, and little papers were sent out to invite the people.
I didn't get one, but because I and Billy
used to change off to lead the sicklers at harvest time in the old days, I
thought they had just forgotton me, and so I slipped off on Polly and went
over.
Now mind you, it was a high-falootin affair. The girl had been away to
school and saw a lot of new things and brought them back to the mountain.
I just wish you could have seen her dress. She was covered with puffs and
rolls and tucks and frills till she looked like an old pheasant incubating
her eggs. Her dress was white with a tail on it that you could tie a knot
into, and the top part was covered with a sort of brindled Polly-ann (now
what in the world would that be?)
They looked at me a bit wryly when I came in, but when I told them
I was a reporter for a newspaper, it was all right. Pastor Mohler married
them, and when he was finished, he kissed the young women. I would be a
quart of buttermilk that if the young woman had been so old and wrinkly
like my dear Polly, then he would no have kissed her.
Well, the people then all stepped up and congratulated them. It was
something new to me, for when I and Polly were married, no one knew
anything about such foolery. But because they all stepped up and said
something, I thought to myself her goes for Boonastiel-stepped up and
instead of saying, "I wish you much joyfulness," like the others did, by
devil I said, "Howdy do."
I knew it was wrong before it was out, but it was too late. The girls
began to laugh and the men took out their hankerchiefs and coughed.
Next week we will have to honor Father; we will continue with this piece
on the 22nd!
Take care,
The Old Professor |
