Ihr liewe Leit:
Wie ihr liewe Leser wisst, iss heit der Daag fer
unser Buwe un Meed wu, geschder un heit, weit
iwwer die verschiddliche See vun der Welt gereest
sin fer, wie der Salli Holsbock mol gschriwwe hot,
"Freiheet unnerschtitze bis alle Land iss frei."
Do sin en paar Linye aussem Ralph Funk
(1889-1969) seim Gedicht "Unser Bu" ass er
gschriwwe hot wie sei Bu aa mol en Soldaat warre
iss:
"Die Nachde sin lang, die Daage dezu;
Die Heemet iss leer unne unser Bu.
In Parlor sei Schtuhl iss immerfaat leer,
Sei Bett net verschteert, ken Gleeder rumhaer.
Unser Hatze sin weh, bis mer draadenkt
Er's draus an re Aerwet wu Freiheit druffhenkt.
"Nau, Onkel Sam, yuscht en Watt odder paar:
Geb acht uff unser Bu, nau in der Gfaar.
Iss Dienscht mol geduh, un brauchscht en net meh,
Dann schick ihn gschwinnt zrick iwwer Land un
See.
Schteh bei ihm, Onkel, dass er kumme mecht
Zrick zu uns sicher un gsund vum Gefecht."
Em Salli Holsbock sei Soh iss aa mol fatt, un die
Zeit iss gewiss langsaam gange:
"Es scheint about en dausent Yaahr
Wie unser Tschan iss fatt,
Mit Buwe vun der Nochberschaft
Un annre vun der Schtadt."
Un sell, wie viel vun eich Leser wisst, iss
Gewiss en draurich Zeit:
"Mei Hatz iss neegscht verbroche,
Un die Mammi datt am Geet
Hot bidder gheilt; es waar gewiss
Uns niemols so verleed."
Awwer es gebt en Zeit wann die Buwe un Meed
widder zerrick kumme vun iwwerm See. Wie der
Salli schreibt:
"Des gebt gewiss en groossi Zeit
Noch all dem bidder Schtreit,
Un all die Buwe (un Meed) kumme heem
Zu ihre liewe Leit.
Die Haahne greehe uff der Fens,
Die Kinner singe fei,
Mir saage, 'Wilkumm!' allemol
Viel liewer ass "good-bye!"
Die Facktri Vissel bloosst gedicht,
Die Belle ringe laut,
Mit yole bis die Gallesgnepp
Abfliege yuschtabout,
Die Mammi heilt fer werri Freeht
Un ihre alt Hatz tschumpt
Fer denke an die Zeit wann aer
Der Tschanni, widder kummt."
Macht's gut,
Der Alt Professer
|
Dear people:
As you dear readers know, today is the day for
our boys and girls who, yesterday and today,
travelled far over the various oceans of the world to
"support freedom until all countries are free," as
Solly Hulsbock once wrote.
Here are a few lines out of Ralph Funk's
(1889-1969) poem "Our Boy," which he wrote
when his son also at one time became a soldier:
"The nights are long, the days also;
Our home is empty without our son.
In the parlor his chair is always empty,
His bed not mussed, no clothes lying around.
Our hearts hurt, until we remember
That he is out on a job upon which hangs freedom.
"Now, Uncle Sam, just a word or a few:
Take care of our boy, now in danger.
Is his service once done, and you no more need him,
Send his quickly back over land and sea.
Stand by him, Uncle, that he may come
Back to us safe and sound from the war."
Solly Hulsbock's boy also left once, and time
certainly went slowly:
"It seems about a thousand years
That our John went away,
With boys from the neighborhood
And others from the city."
And that, as many of your readers know, is
certainly a sad time:
"My heart came close to breaking,
And Mommy there at the gate
Cried bitterly; we have certainly
Never been so depressed."
But there is a time when the boys and girls come
back again from over the sea. As Solly writes:
"There will surely be a grand time
After all that bitter fighting,
And all the men (and women) will come home
To their dear people.
The cocks will crow on the fence,
The children sing nicely.
We like to say, 'Welcome!' every time
Much rather than "good-bye!"
The factory whistle will blow mightily,
The bells will ring loudly,
We'll all be yelling till our suspender buttons
Just about fly off.
Mommy will cry for very joy
And her old heart will jump
To think about the time when he,
Our Johnny, comes home again."
Take care,
The Old Professor |
