Ihr liewe Leit:
Ich hab do en
Kallenner ass weisst ass mer am
zwelfde de Groosseldre ihre Daag feiere. Der
George Mays (1836-1909) hot mol ebbes devun
gschriwwe. Do sin en paar Vaerscht aus seim
Gedicht "Der Alt Mann":
Im groosse Schockelschtuhl
allee
Datt sitzt en alder Mann
Un ruht sei schwacher Karreber schee,
Der nimmi schaffe kann.
Sei Kopp iss blott, sei
Buckel grumm,
Der Baart iss gans schneeweiss,
Gans langsaam guckt er um sich rum
Schwetzt efder zu sich leis.
Die Kinskinner sehnt er immer
gaern,
Er nemmt sie uff sei Gnie,
Un legt sei Hand uff ihre Schtaern,
Weist sie zum Gude hie.
‘S iss waahr, sie netze ihn
oft viel,
Doch iss es lauder Schpass;
Er weess es iss yuscht Kinnergschpiel,
Ass Kimmer hen ken Hass.
Er winscht er waer bei
Greessere so
Wie’s bei de Kinner iss,
Dann hett er schunn der Himmel do
In daere Welt, gewiss.
Doch sehnt er ass er iwwrich
iss
Bei manniche Fraa un Mann,
En fiehlt er iss en Hinnerniss
Weil er net schaffe kann.
Un wann er finnt sei eege
Blut
Weist ihn yuscht Hass un Schtreit,
Un ihn gaar net reschpekde duht,
Sell duht em schrecklich Leid.
Unser Zeit un unser Gsetze,
Die lehre uns gans pleen
Der Alder drei un hoch zu schetze
Un immer aehre scheen
Die christlich Lehr, die bein
uns iss
So reichlich ausgebreit,
Die, sett mer mehne, deet gewiss
Verdillye Hass un Schtreit.
Doch hoffe mir die Zeit kummt
ball
Wu es watt besser geh,
Un wu die gude Eldre all
Die Aehre griege schee.
Macht's gut,
Der Alt
Professer
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Dear people:
I have a calendar here that indicates that we will
celebrate Grandparents Day on the twelfth. George
Mays (1836-1909) once wrote something about
that. Here are a few stanzas from his poem "The Old
Man.":
In the big rocking chair alone
There sits an old man
And rests his weak body nicely,
Which can no longer work.
His head is bald, his back crooked,
His beard is all snow white,
Very slowly he looks about himself,
Talks often to himself softly.
His grandchildren he always likes to see,
He often takes them on his knee
And lays his hand on their forehead,
Shows them the way to good.
It’s true, they often tease him a lot,
But it is all in fun;
He knows it is just child’s play,
That children have no hate.
He wishes it were so with adults
As it is with children,
Then he would already have heaven here
In this world, for sure.
But he sees that he is superfluous
To many a woman and man,
And feels he is a hindrance
Because he cannot work.
And when he finds that his own blood
Shows him just hate and quarrel,
And doesn’t respect him at all,
That makes him terribly sorry.
Our times and our laws,
They teach us very plainly
To value old age faithfully and highly
And always honor well.
Christian teaching, which among us
Is spread so richly,
It, one would think, would certainly
Eradicate hate and quarrel.
But we hope that the time comes soon
When things will go better,
And when our good elders all
Will get honor beautiful.
Take care,
The Old Professor
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