PA German Dialect

Es Neinuhr Schtick

5-23-03

Ihr liewe Leit:

   Es Waar in 1939 ass em Harvey M.Miller (1871-1939) sei Buch Gschpass un Arnscht rauskumme iss. Un em Holsbock sei Tiddel gebt em Professer en gudi Idee fer der Gedechtniss Daag ass mer am 26 Moi feiere. 'S aerscht ebbes in Gschpass:

Es iss ken Musick in meim Kopp
   Un aa net in de Hend,
Ich bin gewiss en aarremet Dropp,
   'S iss net mei Ellement.
Awwer wann die Baend die Schtroos ruffkummt
   Geh't darrich mich bei Degrees
Bis mei alt Hatz mit Luschde tschumpt
   Un resist mich vun de Fiess.
Es Basshann bollert laut un brummt
   Ball wie en Gewidderschtarrem,
Un macht fer'n halb Meil um uns rum
   En farchderlich Gelarrem.
Die Cymbals glinge tzing-a-ling,
   Er schlaagt druff ass es newwelt,
Un's Klarrinet peift gschwische drin,
   Wann er die Bassdrum hewwelt.
Die Kornet blarre aa mit nei
   Un yeders meindt sei Node,
'S iss Luscht fer do bei Lewe sei,
   Un's weckt noch schier die Dode.
Es weckt en frischer Eifer uff
   Un waarmt em uff im Hatz,
Fer wann die Baend kummt Schteddel ruff
   Iss alle Elend katz.

   Ya, 's iss Gschpass die Baend zu here. Awwer was kennt annschthafder sei ass imme Karrichhof zu sei wu unsdere Soldaade schloofe? Der Frank H. Oberholtzer hot mol in seim "Gedechtniss Daag" gschriwwe:

Frei vum Schtreit do in der Welt,
Sie hen ihr Flicht geduh.
Do Leie die braafe Held
In ihre ewiche Ruh.
Sie hen fer uns im Schlachtfeld,
Wu Griegesdunner schallt,
Fer Freiheet - net for Geld-
Mit Blut die Schuld bezaahtl.
Do in ihr enge Kammer
Im Aerdeschoss so kiehl.
Frei vun Elend um Yammer
Bis der Posaaneschpiel-
Loss uns heit net vergesse
Ne Aehre gewwe defor.
Ihr Waert iss net zu messe-
Watt greesser alle Yaahr.
Wie schwer sin, ach, die Schmatze,
Un wie dief iss die Wund.
Dass mir in unsere Hatze
Draage fer alle Schtund!
Wu sin die yunge Menner
Die geschder bei uns waarn?
Sie leie in annre Lenner,
Gschlacht darrich feindes Zarn.

Macht's gut,
Der Alt Professer

Dear people:

   It was in 1939 that Harvey M. Miller's (1871-1939) book Gschbos and Arnsht (Funny Things and Serious) was published. And Hulsbuck's title gives the Professor a good idea for Memorial Day that will celebrate on 26 May. First of all something fun:

There is no music in my head
   And also in my hands,
I am certainly a poor fellow,
   It isn't my element.
But when the band comes up the street,
   It goes through me by degrees
Till my old heart jumps with joy
   And gets me on my feet.
The bass horn rumbles loudly and grumbles
   Almost like a thunderstorm,
And makes for a half mile all around us
   A terrible noise.
The cymbals clang ting-a-ling,
   He hits them as if with an angry outburst,
And the clarinet whistles in between,
   When he beats on the bass drum.
The cornets bawl along also
   And everyone minds his notes,
It's a joy to be alive,
   And it almost wakes the dead.
It awakens a new courage
   And warms your heart,
For when the band comes up the town
   All misery/troubles is/are short.

   Yes, it is fun to hear the band. But what could be more serious than being in a cemetery where our soldiers are sleeping? Frank H. Oberholtzer once wrote in his poem "Memorial Day":

Free from warfare here in this world,
They have done their duty.
Here lie the brave heroes
In their eternal rest.
They have for us on the battlefield,
Where the thunder of war resounds,
For freedom - not for money -
Paid our debts with their blood.
Here in their narrow room
In the lap of the earth so cool,
Free of wretchedness and misery
Until the playing of the brass choir
Let us not forget today
To give them honor for it.
Their worth cannot be measured -
It gets greater every year.
How great are, oh, the pains,
And how deep is the wound
That we in our hearts
Carry for the rest of time!
Where are the young men
Who were with us yesterday?
They lie in other lands,
Butchered by the anger of their foe.

Take Care,
The Old Professor

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