PA German Dialect

Es Neinuhr Schtick

3-30-00

Ihr Liewe Leit:

   Wie mer letscht Woch gschriwwe hen, iss es nau gewiss Friehyaahr. Nee, ich meen net weil die LWAW (Leit wu alles wisse) uns die genaa Zeit am genaae Daag saage kenne, awwer weil der Voggel mit der rode Bruscht mol widder zu sehne watt. Komisch wie am Dienschdaag, zum Beischpiel, mer ken Amschel sehnt, ken eeni. Awwer dann frieh Mittwoch marriye iss der Hof voll. Meent des ass sie nachts reifliege?

   Der J. Max Hark (1849-1930) hot mol en Gedicht vun der Amschel gschriwwe. Es iss gaar net so beriehmt ass wie em Henry Harbaugh sie Gedicht "Der Pihwie,", awwer do iss es ennichhau:

Die Amschle sin do! Die Amschle sin do!
Ich hab die aerscht gheert heit marriye im Bett
Sie hot gsunge im Gaarde ass waer sie so froh:
   "Kumm aan! Kumm 'hett!
   Kumm ann! Kumm 'hett!
'S iss die heechschti Zeit ass mer sich paare duht,
Un sucht sich fer'n Nescht en Baam ass eem suut!
   Kumm aan! Kumm 'hett!
   Kumm ann! Kumm 'hett!"
Ich glaab ass sie widder baue welle datt
Uffem ald Beerebaam ass ich umhackt hett
Die neegscht Woch, waer's net fer ihr Singe alsfaatt:
"Kumm aan! Kumm 'hett!
   Kumm ann! Kumm "hett!
Do's der beschde Baam in der Welt
Fer'n Nescht, un ich glaab er iss parrebess hergschtellt!
Kumm aan! Kumm 'hett!
Kumm ann! Kumm 'hett!"

Was laut's doch so schee im Marriye so frieh-
En schenneri Musick winsch ich mir net-
Wann sie schwingt uffem Gibbel un singt vor sich hie:
   "Kumm aan! Kumm 'hett!
   Kumm ann! Kumm 'hett!
Ferwas leischt un schloofscht wann die Nacht iss verbei?
Die Welt's yo nie schenner ass im aerscht Sunneschei!
   Kumm aan! Kumm 'hett!
   Kumm ann! Kumm 'hett!"
Nix duht eem so Leed ass wann sie im Schpotyaahr
Fatt gehn, un mer sehnt sie der gans Winder net.
Awwer sie duhn's net meinde, sie singe zuvor:
"Kumm aan! Kumm 'hett!
   Kumm ann! Kumm 'hett!
In en anneres Land nau misse mer geh!
So saagt Ferriwell un exschpeckt's Widderseh!
   Kumm aan! Kumm 'hett!
   Kumm ann! Kumm 'hett!"

Macht's gut,
Der Alt Professer

Dear people:

   As we wrote last week, it is now certainly spring. No, I don't mean because the PWKE (people who know everything) can tell us the exact time of the exact day, but because the bird with the red breast can again be seen. It's funny how on a Tuesday, for instance, one sees no robin, not one. But then early Wednesday morning the yard is full of them. Does that mean that they fly in during the night?

   J. Max Hark (1849-1930) once wrote a poem about the robin. It is not at all as famous as Henry Harbaugh's poem "The Piewie", but here it is anyhow:

The robins are here! The robins are here!
I heard the first one singing this morning in bed.
She sang in the garden as if she were happy:
   "Come on! Come ahead!
   Come on! Come ahead!
It is highest time that we pair off,
And look for a nest a tree that suits one!
   Come on! Come ahead!
   Come on! Come ahead!"

I think that they want to build again there
On the old pear tree that I would have cut down
Next week if it weren't for their constant singing:
   "Come on! Come ahead!
   Come on! Come ahead!
Here's the best tree in the world
For a nest, and I think it was put here on purpose!
   Come on! Come ahead!
   Come on! Come ahead!"

How nice it sounds in the morning so early-
A nicer music I wouldn't wish for myself-
When she swings on the tree top and sings to herself:
   "Come on! Come ahead!
   Come on! Come ahead!
Why do you lie and sleep when the night is over?
The world is never nicer than at first sunshine!
   Come on! Come ahead!
   Come on! Come ahead!"
Nothing is so sad as when in the fall they
Go away, and one doesn't see them the whole winter.
But they don't mind it, they sing previously:
   "Come on! Come ahead!
   Come on! Come ahead!
To another land now we must go!
So say farewell and expect to see us again!
   Come on! Come ahead!
   Come on! Come ahead!"

Take care,
The Old Professor

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updated 3-15-2007 paf