Ihr liewe Leit:
Wie ihr liewe Leser schunn wisst, iss's am zwelfde em Lincoln sei
Gebottsdaag. Der Parre Pierce E. Swope (1884-1968), der "Kaschpar Hufnagel,"
hot mol en Gedicht vum Lincoln gschriwwe. Do iss's":
Hanning der Zweft iss der Abe Lincoln gebore,
Dem Land iss sei Lewe nix besseres erfaahre.
Wann es net gewesst waer fer den gude Mann,
Waer des Land zu de Hund gange dann un wann.
Der Abe waar en hatzhafdicher Bu gewesst,
Iss gans aarem rumgeloffe, un waar net gut gedresst.
Hot gschafft fer sei Lewe, gschtudiert noch debei,
Un yung ausgemacht er schtellt die Schwatze frei.
Die Yaahre gehn rum un der Abe iss ball alt,
Sei Lieb fer sei Land, des watt awwer net kalt.
Er dischbudiert mit em Douglas vun Schtadt zu Schtadt,
Doch watt er net Senator, es hot nix gebatt.
Die Helft vun dem Land will Leit kaafe un verkaafe,
Die anner Helft saage, "Mir welle ken Schklaafe."
Alle Sadde Druwwel fliegt nau middem Wind,
Ebbes muss geduh sei un der verdollt gschwinnt.
In achtzeh un sechzich lege sie en schtarrick Fundament.
Die Leit schtimme Abe nei fer unser President.
Es Land reisst in zwee __ es eent Schklaaf, es anner frei.
Der Abe saagt, "Sell iss letz, es muss ebbes gehug sei."
Es gebt en langer Grieg, 's Blut laaft iwwerall rum,
Die SOldaade halde Schteppe mit der Peif un der Drumm.
In wennich iwwere vier Yaahr iss der Grieg gans verbei,
Es Land bileibt beinanner, die Schwatze sin frei.
Un O, was en Hallichkeit! Im Land un in der Schtadt
Die Leit singe un danse, awwer der Abe Lincold geht fatt.
Es waar im Theater, es waar zimmlich schpoot,
En Mann tschumbt gege ihn un schiesst ihn noh dot.
Die Leit waare am Weine, iwwer Hiwwel un Daal,
Die Memsche waare am Drauere undes waar en groosi Zaahl.
Sei Leib watt fattgenumme, seinre Heemet zu,
Datt lege sie der Abe in sei ewichi Ruh.
Er watt nie vergesse so lang die Welt schteht,
Nau saage Amerigaaner en aernschti Gebet:
Liewer Gott im Himmel drin, ach halt uns vun Gefaahr,
Mach yeders em Mensch wie der Abe eener waar.
Macht's gut,
Der Alt Proffesser
|
Dear people:
As you dear readers already know, Lincoln's birthday is on the
twelfth, Pastor Pierce E. Swope, whose pen name was "Kaspar Horseshoe
Nail" (1884-1968), once wrote a poem about Lincoln. Here it is:
On February 12 Abe Lincoln was born,
Nothing better has ever happened in this country,
If it had not been for this good man,
This country would have gone to the dogs.
Abe was a courageous boy,
Walked around poor, and wasn't well dressed.
Worked for his living, meanwhile studied,
And decided while still young to free the Blacks.
The years go by and Abe is soon old,
His love for his country, it doesn't get cold.
He disputes with Douglass from city to city.
But doesn't become Senator, it doesn't matter.
Half of the country wants to buy and sell people.
The other half says, "We don't want slaves."
All sorts of troubles fly with the wind,
Something must be done, and that done quickly.
In 1860 they lay a strong foundation.
The people vote in Abe as our President.
The country tears in twain - one slave, the other free.
Abe says, "That is wrong, something must be done."
There's a long war, blood runs everywhere.
The soldiers hold step with the fife and drum.
In a little over four years the war is all over,
The country stays together, the Blacks are free.
And oh, what jollity! In the country and the city
The people sing and dance, but Abe Lincoln goes away.
It was in a theater, it was quite late,
A man jumps towards him and then shoots him dead.
The people were crying, over hill and dale,
The people were mourning and there were many of them.
His body is taken away, towards his home,
There they lay Abe in his eternal rest.
He won't be forgotten as long as the world exists,
Now Americans say an earnest prayer:
Dear God in Heaven, Oh keep us from danger,
Make everyone a person like Abe was one.
Take care,
The Old Professor
|
