Ihr liewe Leit:
Wie ihr liewe Leser wisst, iss es am achtzehede der Vaddersdaag.
Darrich die Yaahre hen viele Leit fer en Kallem gefroogt ass ich mol fascht
fuffzeh Yaahr zerrick gschriwwe hab:
Wie der Salli Holsbock mol in seim Gedicht “mei Gleener Bu”
gschriwwe hot:
Waer wett dann net en Vadder sei
Wann Gott, mit Lieb so gross,
En kammer Mann befriend un dutt
En Engel in sei Schooss!
En glee unschuldich Kind wie des
Brintt Himmel owwerunner.
Un unne Kinner waer die Welt
Wie’n Yaahr mit gaar ken Summer.
Nadierlich iss es yedem Vadder bang, es kennt ebbes letz geh:
Fer alle Schul un Karrich do
Fer’n guder Karackder baue,
Sin schlechde Bletz uff all Eck
Fer gude Leit versaue.
Un’s watt aa niemols annerschder:
Der Deiwel nemmt sei Weg
Bis alle aehrlich, guder Grischt
Mol lebt ass wie er beedt!
Awwer in Seim Gedicht
“Mei Daadi” saagt uns der Holsbock:
Mei Daddi’s ungeduldich
Un hot ken Zeit fer mich;
Er denkt net dass era aa mol waar
En gleener Bu wie ich.
Fer owets hockt er in seim Schtuhl
Un wann ich frooge will
Vun Sache dass ich net verschteh,
Dann greischt er glei “Sei schtill!”
Die Louise Weitzel denkt dass sell kennt haeppene wann der Daadi zu
hatt schafft. In ihrem Gedicht “Mei Daadi” schreibt sie:
Der Daadi hot vergesse
Dass er waar en gleener Bu;
Der Daadi dutt yuscht schaffe,
Un nemmt sich gaar ken Ruh.
Un ferwas schafft er so hatt. Der Ralph Funk kann uns des auslege
(“Vun Daadi”):
Er sarrigt fer sei Familye, un
Er dutt’s aa arrig gaern;
Des iss sei Lewe, des sei Ziel,
ZU griege Sach eich gheern.
Un deshalb mist ihr em Funk seinre Rot follige:
Geb ihm ken Ursach fer en Dreen,
‘S iss alsnoch net zu schpoot;
Sei gut zu ihm, ihr dutt’s net wann
Er leit mol kalt im Dot.
Macht’s gut,
Der Alt Professer
|
Dear people:
As you dear readers know, Father’s Day is on the eighteenth.
Through the years many people have asked for a column that I wrote almost
15 ears ago:
As Solly Hulsbuck once wrote in his poem “My Little Boy”:
Who wouldn’t want to be a father
When God, with love so great,
A common man befriends and puts
An angel in his lap!
A small, innocent child like that
Brings heaven down from above,
And without children the world would be
Like a year without summer.
Naturally every father is anxious that something could go wrong:
For every good school and church here
For building good character
There are bad places on every corner
To ruin good people.
And it will never get different:
The devil will have his way
Until all honest, good Christians
Once live what they pray!
But, in his poem “My daddy” Hulsbuck tells us:
My Daddy is impatient
And has no time for me;
He doesn’t remember that he once was
A little boy like me.
For in the evenings he sits in his chair
And when I want to ask
About things I don’t understand,
The he immediately cries, “Be still!”
Louise Weitzel thinks that could happen when Daddy works too hard.
In her poem “My Daddy” she writes:
Daddy has forgotten
That he was a little boy;
Daddy just works,
And never takes a rest.
And why does he work so hard? Ralph Funk can explain that to us
(“About Daddy”):
He provides for his family, and
He does it very gladly;
That is his life, his goal,
To get the things that belong to you.
And that is why you must take Funk’s advice:
Give him no cause for a tear,
It is not yet too late;
Be good to him, you won’t be doing it
When he once lies in his grave (death).
Take care,
The Old Professor |
