PA German Dialect

Es Neinuhr Schtick

November 18, 2004

Ihr liewe Leit:

   Wie mer schunn efders gsaat hen, der Buhneschtiehl (der Thomas Hess Harter, 1854-1933) waar vielleicht der bescht-beliebt vun de Pennsilvaanisch Deitsche Schreiwer. Meh ass zehe dausent vun seine Bicher ass er Boonastiel: A Volume of Legend, Story and Song gheese hot sin verkaaft warre, un meh ass 25 Zeidinge in Heio un Pennsilvaani hen sei Kallems gedruckt.

   Heit fange mer sei Brief “Der Danksdaag” aa:

   Heit iss der Daag ass der Governor vorgsetzt hot fer Dank zu gewwe. Es hot viel Leit ass gaar net wisse was es meent. Deel meene es waer en Daag fer sich rund voll Welschhinkel fresse un dennoh grank warre druff. Der Mensch kann en Sau vun sich mache so gschwinnt iwwer em Fresse ass em Saufe.

   Ich gleich selwer am Disch sei wu en Welschhaahne verrisse watt – net ass ich Welschhinkel gleich, awwer es iss alsfatt ebbes Gudes mit verbunne.

   Viel Leit gehne zu groosse Expens fer ihre Esse uffgriege – abbaddich so Familye ass reich sin. Dennoh danke sie Gott ass sie so gut aakumme mit lange Gebeeder awwer denke net draa ass vielleicht ihrem neegschde Nochber sei Kinner Hungersnot leide.

   Hoscht du in deim Lewe draagedenkt ass me aarreme Mensch mithelfe en viel greesseri Blessier iss ass wie en gross Middaagsesse aussem Weg schaffe? Es sin viel Leit ass alsfatt Dank gewwe weil sell kee Geld koscht, un wann net Grischdendum frei waer, dann deede sie ken Fipp gewwe devor.

   Aarreme Leit mithelfe macht fer en lang un haerrlich Lewe. Der Mann wu nix gebt zu nimmand, daer iss wie en Wasserpand ass net auslaaft. Es Wasser iss grie un schleimich, un Grodde un Schlange hocke uff der Bank. Bei ihne kummt alles ei un nix geht aus.

   Awwer der Mann wu alsfatt gebt iss wie es Barrigwasser. Es grickt viel un gebt alles ass es grickt. Wu’s annelaaft sin die Felder grie, die Veggel singe uff de Beem un die Forelle schiesse drin rum wie Wedderleeche. Es Wasser Lacht un danst un tschumpt mit Freide. Mer gleiche es Wasser drinke un mer kann sich net zu neegscht dezu hocke wann mer nied iss.

   Es hockt sich nimmand neegscht an en grieni Wasserpand fer Blessier suche. So iss es mit em geitziche Mensch. Er gebt nix un gratzt alles zu sich wie en Grebbs. Er schwetzt vun nix ass Geld,un Land, un Welschkann, un Sei: un wann du ihm lang genunk zuharricht, gebt er dir’s Schiddle. So dutt’s grie, schleimich Wasser.

   Ich bin en aarremer Mann, awwer so verhafdich ass ich dir’s saag, wann ich’s afforde kennt, dann waer mei greeschdi Blessier so aarreme Deihenker mitheldfe.

   Mer mache neegscht Woch weider.

Macht’s gut,
Der Alt Professer

Dear people:

    As we have already said quite often, Boonastiel (Thomas Hess Harter, 1854-1933) was perhaps the best-loved of all the Pennsylvania German (Dutch) writers. More that 10,000 of his books, which he called Boonastiel: A Volume of Legend, Story and Song, were sold, and more that 25 newspapers in Ohio and Pennsylvania printed his columns.

   Today we begin his letter “Thanksgiving”:

   Today is the day that the Governor has intended that we give thanks. There are many people who do not know what it means. Some think that it is a day for eating oneself round with turkey and then getting sick from it. People can make pigs of themselves as quickly by eating as by drinking.

   I myself like to be at a table where turkey is being eaten – not that I like turkey, but there is always something good associated with it.

   Many people go to great expense to get together their meal – especially such families that are rich. Then they thank God tat they are getting along so well, with long prayers, but they don’t think about the fact that perhaps their next-door neighbor’s children are suffering hunger.

   Have you ever thought in you life that helping out a poor person is a greater joy thean getting rid of a large dinner (lunch)? There are many people who continually give thanks simply because it doesn’t cost any money, and if Christendom weren’t free, then they wouldn’t care a fip for it.

   Helping the poor people makes for a long and glorious life. The man who gives nothing to anyone, he is like a pond that does not run out (that it, has no outlet). The water is green and slimey, and frogs and snakes sit on the bank. With them, everything comes in but nothing goes out.

   But the man who always gives is like the mountain water. It gets much and gives everything that it gets. Wherever it runs the fields are green, the birds sing in the trees, and the trout shoot around like lightning. The water laughs and dances and jumps with joy. We like to drink the water, and one can’t sit too close enough to it when one is tired.

   Nobody sits close to a green pond to find joy. So it is with a stingy person. He gives nothing and scratches everything toward himself like a crab. He talks of nothing but money and land and corn and pigs; and if you listen to him long enough, he’ll give you the shakes. So does green, slimey water.

   I am a poor man, but as truly as I tell you, if I could afford it, then my greatest joy would be to help out such poor devils.

   We’ll have to continue next week.
Take care,
The Old Professor

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updated 3-15-2007 paf