Ihre liewe Leit:
Ich glaab ‘s warricklick widder Zeit fer en paar vun Parre Pierce
Swope (1884-1968) sei Parreschtoris:
Mei gans Lewelang hawwich Schtoris gheert wu der Parre nooch der
Breddich des gsaat hot, “All die wu in der Himmel welle, schteht uff.” Nau,
ich mach ken Gschpass iwwer die Religion, yuscht es waar immer ee Kall in
denne Schtoris wu net uffgschtane iss. Des iss wu der Gschpass neikumme iss.
Der Abe Lincoln, wie er noch aardlich yung waar, iss geloffe fer
Kangeress. Er iss in die Karrich gange,un nooch der Breddich hot der Parre
gsaat, “All die wu sich bekehre welle, schteht uff.” Sie sin all uffgschtanne,
ass wie der Lincoln. Noh saagt der Parre, “Witt du warricklich an der schlecht
Blatz, Mr. Lincoln?” Der Abe hot geantwatt, “Ich bin doch am fer Kangeress
laafe, bin ich net?”
Do iss noch en Schtori ass mir en Friend verzeehlt hot. Es iss en
Parre en Schteddell nunner aardlich schpot mol Samschdaag owets,un wie er am
Wattshaus verbei iss, heert er en groosi Uffruhr datt drin. Sie waare laut am
Singe, awwer ken Grischtliche Lieder. Sie hen aardlich schlechde Wadde geyuust.
Der Parre hot die Dier uffgemacht un iss in die Baarschtubb. Die Baar hot
vollhanke, un die Menner waare am Bier nunner Suckle wie die Kalls leicht uff
die Axel geglobbt, un hot gsaat, “Deetscht du gaern in der Himmel geh?” Der
Kall hot gsaat, “Ei, schur.” Dann hot der Parre gsaat, “Dann schtell dich datt
niwwer ins Eck.”
Noh hot der Parre mit de annere gschwetzt, un glei hen neine
beinanner im Eck gschtanne. Awwer dann hot der Parre en Schtarrkeppicher
aagedroffe. Wie er den gfrogt hot eb er in der Himmel wott, hot er gsaat,
“Nee,ich deet liewer doe bleiwe!” “Witt net in der Himmel wann du mol
schtarrebscht?” “Yo, ich will,” hot der Versoffner gsaat, “awwer ich hab
gemeent du waerscht graad nau en Busslood am Uffmache fer schunn geh!”
Es waar en scheener Daag in Pennsylveeni. Nooch der Breddich hot
der Parre gsaat, “All die wu in der Himmel welle, schteht uff.” Eener iss net
uffgschtanne. Der Parre froogt, “Witt net in der Himmel?” Der Kall hot
geantwatt, “Pennsylveeni iss gut genunk fer mich.”
Der Alt Professer deet gleiche zu wisse wieviel Parreschtois es
gebt in Pennsylvaanisch Deitsch. Es muss doch hunnerde gewwe – wielleicht
sogaar hunnerde un hunnerde!
Macht’s gut,
Der Alt Professer
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Dear people:
I believe that it is truly/really again time for a couple of Pastor
Pierce Swope’s (1884-1968) pastor stories:
My whole life long I have heard stories where the pastor after the
sermon said this, “All of you who want to go to heaven, stand up.” Now I’m
not making fun of religion, but there was always one fellow in those
stores that did not stand up. That is where the fun came in.
Abe Lincoln, when he was still rather young, ran for congress. He
went to church, and after the sermon the pastor said, “Do you really want
to go to the bad place, Mr. Lincoln? Abe answered, “I’m running for
Congress, ain’t I?”
Here is another story that a friend told me. A pastor once went
down to a village quite late one Saturday evening, and as he went past the
barroom, he hears a big uproar in there. They were singing loudly, but
they weren’t Christian songs. They used very bad words. The pastor opened
the door and went into the barroom. The bar hung full, and the men were
sucking down beer like the bees. The pastor walked up to them, tapped one
of those fellows lightly on the shoulder, and said, “Would you like to go
to heaven?” The fellow said, “Oh, sure.” Then the pastor said, “Then stand
over there in the corner.”
Then the pastor talked to the others, and right away nine of them
stood together in the corner. But then the pastor met a stubborn fellow.
He asked him if he wanted to go to heaven, he said, “No, I would rather
stay here!” “Don’t you want to go to heaven when you once die?” “Sure I
do,” the drunk said, “but I thought you were just now making up a bus load
to go already!”
It was a nice day in Pennsylvania.
After the sermon the pastor said, “All of you who want to go to heaven,
stand up.” One of them did not stand up. The pastor asks, “Don’t you want
to go to heaven?” The fellow answered, “Pennsylvania is good enough for
me.”
The old Professor would like to know how many pastor stories there
are in Pennsylvania German. There must be hundreds of them – perhaps even
hundreds and hundreds!
Take care,
The Old Professor
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