Ihr liewe
Leit:
Ich kann's schier net glaawe! Heit fangt der Alt Professer sie
zwansichschde Yaahr aa. Awwer er iss gewiss noch net am End vun seinre Rees,
die schee Mudderschprooch zu lowe un feiere. Wie der Adam Stump in seim
Gedicht "Die Mudderschprooch mot gschriwwe hot:
Die aerschde Wadde die mer weess,
Die's diefscht in unsre Hatze gsunke,
Die immer gut un niemols bees,
Hen mer mit Muddermillich gedrunke-
Wie doch des arreme, schwache kind
Die Schprooch so siess un lieblich finnt!
Der Charles C. Zeigler (1854-1930) hot sie Lieb fer unsri
Mudderschprooch villeicht am Beschde ausgedrickt:
Will ich recht verschtennich schwetze-
Ebbes ausenanner setze-
A, B, C, un eens, zwee, drei-
So dass yeder kammner Mann
Glaar un deitlich sehne kann
Well iss Gold un well Blei,
Nemm ich gude, deitsche wadde,
Weiss un schwatze, weech un hadde,
Noh vollbringt die Sach sich glei.
Binnich an de Waahret suche
Un finn Ungerechtichkeit,
Liege, Heichlerei un Schtreit
Bis ich alles kennt verfluche;
Schteigt mei Zann wie rode Flamme
Un will alles noh verdamme,
Yuus ich net en Schprooch poleit;
Nee, ich nemm mei deitsche Wadde,
Beissich scharref wie hickre Gadde,
Hack dewedder ass es batt;
Schlaag druff los-un fluch mich satt!
Wann ich bin die Sinde leddich,
Schwer bedrickt vun meinre Schuld,
Aernschlich noh un ehrlich beed ich
Um Vergebung, Gnaad un Huld;
Kann der Vadder Unser, Meen ich
In der Mudderschprooch allee
Mich recht heere un verschteh.
Fer in deitsche Wadde leenich
Hot die Mammi mich gelannt
Wie zu beede, mich bereit
Zu mache fer die Ewichkeit.
Der Astor C. Wuchter (1856-1922) hot aa mol vun der Mudderschprooch
gschriwwe:
Die Mudderschprooch! Die Mudderschprooch!
Wie Schee un zaart sie iss;
Waer net verwildert, ausgeaart,
Daer liebt sie, ya, gewiss!
Awwer was kennt bassiere wann mer sich wege sei Mudderschprooch
schemmt, un wann mer verwildert un ausgeaart iss weil mer sich schemmt?
Neegscht Woch finne mer aus.
Macht's gut,
Der Alt Professer
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Dear people:
I can hardly believe it! Today the Old Professor begins his twentieth
year. But he is certainly not at the end of his journey to praise and
celebrate our beautiful Mother Tongue. As Adam Stump once wrote in his
poem "The Mother Tongue":
The first words that one knows,
That are sunk the deepest in our hearts,
Which are always good and never bad,
We drank with mother's milk-
How that poor weak child
Finds that language so sweet and dear!
Charles C. Zeigler (1854-1930) perhaps expressed his love for our
Mother Tongue the best:
If I want to talk very understandably-
Explain something-
A, B, C and one, two three-
So that every common man
Can clearly and plainly see
What is gold and what is lead,
I take good German words,
White ones and black, soft ones and hard,
Then the matter is accomplished immediately.
If I am looking for the truth
And find injustice,
Lies, hypocrisy, and strife
Till I could just curse everything;
If my anger rises like a red flame
And wants to damn everything,
I don't use a polite language;
No, I take my German words,
Bitingly sharp as hickory switches,
Lash about so that I have relief;
Whack away-and swear till I'm satisfied!
When I am free of these sins,
Heavily distressed by my guilt,
Then I pray earnestly and honestly
For forgiveness, mercy and grace;
The Lords Prayer, I believe, can
Only in the Mother Tongue
Be correctly heard and understood.
For only in German words
Mommy taught me
How to pray, to ready
Myself for eternity.
Astor C. Wuchter (1856-1922) also once wrote of the Mother Tongue:
The Mother Tongue! The Mother Tongue!
How beautiful and tender it is;
Whoever doesn't degenerate, deteriorate,
He loves it, yes, certainly!
But what could happen if one is ashamed because of his Mother
Tongue, and one degenerates and deteriorates because one is ashamed? Next
week we'll find out.
Take care,
The Old Professor
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