PA German Dialect

Es Neinuhr Schtick

June 1, 2000

Ihr liewe Leit:

   Mer misse heit weidermache middem Moll sleinre Schtori vun dem Schpiel ass mer Eckballe heesst:

   " 'Nau wolle mer saage ich deet aa verfehle noh waere noch zwee Ecke. Du un der Dokder breiche net uff eire Ecke bleiwe, ihr kennt vun eem zum annere schpringe. Nau, wolle mer saage, der Dokder verfehlt, noh bishct du leenich, un die gans anner Seit muss in die Schtubb. Du hoscht nau ken Hilf meh un musscht browiere vun denne in deer chtubb zu dreffe allemol dass du schmeisscht.

   " 'Wann du des duh kannscht, dass sie aall raus misse, noh kumme mer widder uff die annere Ecke. Un wann meh wie viere uff ennere Seit sin, dann sin die Ecke nie net leer. 'S Eck ass leer watt wu der waar was im Schmeisses verfehlt hot watt genumme vun eem vun seinre Seit. Wann du verehle settscht, noh grickt die anner Seit die Ecke unmir misse in die Schtubb. Wann yuscht mer eener uff de Ecke iss un er hot die gans anner Seit in der Schtubb, saagt mer er deet sie drille. Verschtehscht nau?'

"'Ya, ich duh,' saagt der Kall, "awwer ich kann alsnoch net sehne wie du eens uff die Naas grickt hoscht."

   " 'Eens vun de Gnecht hot uns all raus gschmisse ghatt bis ich leenich in der Schtubb waar, un des hot der Dunnerlatter geblaant ghatt, weil er gaar net noch mer gschmisse hot bevor. Er hot gziehlt ass wann er mer an der Kopp schmeisse wott. Ich loss mich falle un wie ich uffschteh, schmeisst er un dreffft mich uff mei Naas. Ich hab die Schtanne fliege sehne, noh watt mer alles schwatz var de Aage, un in daere Weil dass ich ummechdich waar, muss der Deichenkere mich en gans dutzend Mol gschmisse hawwe. Ich schpier die Blacke iwwer meim ganser Kaerreber.

   'Der hen do saagt mer die annere hette ihn uffheere mache, un's hett schier en Gfecht gewwe. Awwer die verflammte Gnecht schtehne net uff fer Fechte. Sie scharre sich allemol aus em Schtaab. Awwer waardt yuscht, ich kumm ewe mit denne Kall un wann ich waarde muss bis ich achtzich Yaahr alt wa."

   Der Hi lacht sich die Feicht voll un saagt, "Du bischt en schlipperricher Kall, awwer die sin zu scharref fer dich, 'saagt er. 'Du kannscht greische un lache wann ebberschunnscht ebbes bassiert, awwer gehscht aa ass wie en wiedicher Bull wann eenichebbes uff dich gschprengt watt. Awwer du hoscht net gelacht sellemols wie die Gnecht dir sell Schtick Lewwerwascht in die Barschtubb gschmisse hen, un do hoscht gemeent's waer en Schtick Dynamite,' saagt der Ed."

Macht's gut,
Der Alt Professer

Dear people:

We have to continue today with Moll's story of the game that we call cornerball:

   "Now let's say that I would miss, then there would be only two corners. You and the doctor do not have to stay at your corners, you can run from one to another. Now, let's say, the doctor misses, then you are alone, and the whole other side had to get into the room. You now no longer have any help and have to try to hit one of them in the room every time you throw.

   "If you can do that, so that they all have to get out, then we again get to go to the other corners. And if more than four are on a side, then the corners are never empty. The corner that gets empty where he was who missed when throwing is taken by someone from his side. If you should miss, then the other side gets the corners and we have to get into the room. If only one person is on the corners and he has the whole other side in the room, we say that he was drilling them. Do you understand now?

"Yes, I do, says the fellow, 'but I still can't see how you got one on the nose."

" 'One of the farmhands had thrown all of us out until I was alone in the room, and the son-of-a-gun had planned it that way, because he had not thrown at me at all before. He aimed as if he wanted to hit me in the head. I let myself fall and when I get up, he throws and hits me on my nose. I saw the stars fly, then everything gets black before my eyes, and in the time while I was unconscious, that devil must have thrown at me a whole dozen times. I feel the spots over my whole body.

   'Hen here tells me that the others had to make him stop, and that there had almost been a fight. But those doggoned farmhands don't go in for fighting. They make their way out of the dust every time (run away, that is). But just wait I'll get even with those fellows and even if I have to wait till I am 80 years old.'

   "Hi laughs into his sleeves and says, "You are a slippery fellow, but they are too sharp for you," he says. "You can yell and laugh when something happens to somebody else, but you carry on like a mad bull if something is pulled off on you. But you didn't laugh at the time when the farmhands threw a piece of liverwurst into the barroom and you thought that it was a piece of dynamite' says Ed."

Take care,
The Old Professor

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updated 3-15-2007 paf