Ihr liewe
Leit:
Letscht Woch hen mer gelese ass der Charl Lauchner un sei Fraa en
Welschkannbascht Schprie hen. Die yunge Leit wu sie eigeladde hen sin all
gepaart – awwer net die Selinde. Der Moll macht nau weider:
Die Selinde schteht mol so bissel bedriebt rum, noh schlaagt sie
leenich Hand aa. Der Hen un der Bill hen des gsehne. Der Bill saagt, “Hen,
nemm du sie.”
“Der Deihenker, ich will sie net. Geb mer mol en Tschaaduwack.” Der
Hen schtoppt ball der halb Pack ins Maul, noh saagt er, “Ich saag dir was mer
duhne. Ich hab en Fimfcentschtick im Sack. Was saagscht, graad odder ungraad?
Der wu’s rode dutt muss mit re baschte, was saagscht?”
Der Bill saagt “graad” un hot verlore.
“Well,” saagt der Hen, “ich hab schunn schlimmere Sache darrich
gemacht. Sauf yuscht net all de Seidereil bis ich zerrickkumm.”
Er geht un sucht der Schock wu die Selinde am Baschte iss.
“Selinde, du gebscht nix drum wann ich mit dir bascht, duscht?”
Sie guckt en mol aa, un denkt zu sich selwer er waer nau net so
gans iwwel wann er net so dreckich waer, wann er gebalwiert waer, wann ihm net
die Tschaaduwacksbrieh an de Maulecke nunner laafe deet, un wann er net so
viel saufe deet, un net zu faul waer zu schaffe. “Well,” saagt sie, “du
kannscht mit mir baschde, awwer es warre ken rode Kolwe gsucht.”
Hiwwe un driwwe waare zwee Paar, die hen gewiss en gudi Zeit ghatt,
un allegebott hot’s gschmatzt, so schier ass wann en Kuh ihre Fuss aussem
Dreck ziege deet. Die Selinde guckt der Han als aa, awwer er saagt nix un
schpaut Schtraahle Duwacksbrieh eweck wie en rechdi Feierinschein.
Midde im Feld waare die Knecht am Schocke un Schmeisse. Mer hot
sehne kenn dass sie arrig gsucht hen fer ebbes, un im dem hen die Baschder
gemutmoost was des waar.
Endlich hot der hen en roder Kolwe gfunne. Er guckt mol die Selinde
so schei aa, awwer sie macht ass wann sie’s net sehne deet. Sie baschde noch
en Weil fatt un noh finnt er noch eener. Er hebt en uff un saagt, “Selinde, ei
guck mol do, en roder Kolwe.”
“Der basst zu deinre Naas,” iss ihre Antwatt.
Die Baschder sin am annere End vum Feld. Der Charl hot en Gruck
Ebbeljack fer die Mannsleit, wu bang sin die kennde Kalt griege.
Nau sell iss awwer ebbes – aerscht der Seidereil un nau der
Ebbeljack! Awwer iss es genunk fer em Hen Kuraasche gewwe, die Selinde zu
bosse wann er widder en roder Kolwe finnt?
Macht’s gut,
Der Alt Professer
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Dear people:
Last week we read that Charl Lauchner and his wife were having a
corn husking sprie. The young people that they invited are all paired off
– but not Selinde. Moll now continues:
Selinde stands around a little downcast, then she starts in all alone.
Hen and Bill saw that. Bill says, “Hen, you take her.”
“The devil I will, I don’t want her. Give me a chew of tobacco.”
Hen stuffs almost half the pack into his mouth, then he says, “I’ll tell
you what we’ll do. I have a five-cent-piece in my pocket. What do you say,
heads or tails? He who guesses rightly has to husk with her, what do you
say?”
Bill says,, “heads” and loses.
“Well,” says Hen, I’ve already been through worse things. Just
don’t drink all of the cider (with added alcohol) until I get back.”
He goes and looks for the shock where Selinde is husking. “Selinde,
you don’t mind if I husk with you, do you?”
She looks at him once, and thinks to herself that he wouldn’t be so
entirely bad if he weren’t so dirty, if he were shaved, if the tobacco
juice didn’t run down the corners of his mouth, and if he didn’t drink so
much, and weren’t too lazy to work. “Well,” she says, “you can husk with
me, but there will be no looking for red ears.”
On this side and on
that side were two couples, they were certainly having a good time, and
every once in a while there was a smack, almost as if a cow is pulling her
foot out of the muck. Selinde keeps looking at Hen, but he doesn’t say
anything, and he spits streams of tobacco juice away like a veritable fire
engine.
In the middle of the field were the farmhands shucking and
throwing. One could see that they were really looking for something, and
therein the huskers guessed what that was.
Finally Hen found a red ear. He looks once at Selinde so shyly, but
she makes believes that she didn’t see it. They husk for a while more and
then he finds another. He lifts it in the air and says, “Selinde, wow,
look here once, a red ear.”
“It fits with your nose,” is her answer.
The huskers are at the other end of the field. Charl has a crock of
Applejack for the men, who are afraid they might catch cold.
Now that is something – first the cider (+alcohol) and now the
applejack! But will it be enough to give Hen courage to kiss Selinde when
he again finds a red ear?
Take care,
The Old Professor
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