PA German Dialect

Es Neinuhr Schtick

12-18-03

Ihr liewe Leit:

Ya, 's gebt nix wie en guder PD Boi, saag ich eich. Awwer nadierlich muss mer genuck hawwe fer all die wu mitesse wolle. Der John Birmelin hot mol ausgfunne was brassiere kann wann der Boi net grooss genunk iss - odder hot sell nix demit zu duh ghatt?

Do schtopp ich amme Wattshaus nei -
Es waar in Kutztaun, saag der's glei -
Datt hen mer'n gudes Middaag ghatt,
Un waare aa so zimmlich satt.

En Parre hockt uff yedere Seit,
Zwee rechde, gude, fromme Leit;
Un driwwe hockt der Yockel Schmitt,
Unich do hiwwe in der Mitt.

En Kascheboi bringt uns die Maad:
Do hawwich zu mer selwer gsaat,
"Ich hoff der Boi watt recht verdeelt,
Un ass mer nimmand's Moos verfeehlt!"

Waer immer dann am aerschde schneidt,
Soll denke an Gerechdichkeit;
Vun Nadd bis Sidd, vun Oscht bis West,
Waar immer so Gebrauch gewest.

Mer hen mol nanner aageguckt,
Do hot em Yokel's Maul gezuckt;
Noh guckt er runner uff der Boi,
En Blick im Aag wie'n Hinkelwoi.

Die Parre gucke uff die Seit -
Sie mache's als die feine Leit-
Ich schick mich aa, so bissel bleed,
Ass wann ich gaar nix sehne deet.

Sei Messer nemmt der Yockel Schmitt
Un reecht mol weit bis iwwer die Mitt;
Noh schlaamst er nooch der rechde Seit,
Dann uff der linke graad so weit.

Un wie er's Messer drunner schiebt,
Do hot er'n Diebschtaahl datt veriebt;
Er schleeft sei Schtick zum Deller hie,
Mitsammt de Kasche un der Brieh.

Vun dem was noh noch iwwrich waar,
Do warn die Kasche zimmlich raar;
Noh sin die Parre an die Roi -
Ich saag ne, "Helft eich yuscht zum Boi!"

So kumm ich dann zum letschde Schtick,
Muss ewwe nemme, was ich grick;
In diefer Demut bleibt mer yuscht
Noch bissel datt vun seller Gruscht.

Ken "Kutztauner Schnitt" fer mich, saag ich eich!

Macht's gut,
Der Alt Professer

Dear people:

Yes, there is nothing like a good PG pie, I tell you. But of course you have to have enough for all those who want to eat along. John Birmelin (1873-1950) once found out what can happen when the pie isn't big enough - or didn't that have anything to do with it?

I stopped in at a tavern/inn -
It was in Kutztown, I'll tell you right now -
There we had a good noon-day meal/lunch,
And we were rather filled up.

A pastor sits on each side of me,
Two righteous, good devout people;
And opposite sits Jack Smith,
And I over here in the middle

A cherry pie is brought in by the servant girl;
Than I said to myself,
"I hope that the pie will be divided correctly,
And that no one messes up the measurement!"

Whoever is the first to cut (a piece),
Should think about righteousness/fairness;
From north to south, from east to west,
That has always been the custom.

So we looked at each other,
Jack's mouth was twitching;
Then he looked down at the pie,
A look in his eye like a chicken hawk.

The pastors looked off the side -
They acted like the fine people do -
I acted/behaved, a little shy,
As if I didn't see anything at all.

Jack Smith takes his knife
And reaches far over the middle;
Then he slants over to the right side,
Then to the left just as far.

And when he shoved his knife under the slice,
He was committing a crime/thievery there;
He drags his piece over to his plate,
Together with the cherries and the juice.

Of that which is left over,
The cherries were quite rare;
Then it was the pastor's turn -
I say to them, "Just help yourselves to the pie!"

So then I got to the last piece,
I had to take whatever I got;
In deep humility there was only left
A little bit of crust.

No "Kutztown Cut/Slice" for me, I'll tell you!

Take care,
The Old Professor

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updated 3-15-2007 paf