Ihr liewe Leit:
Heit mache mer weider middem von Nieda seinre Schtori vum Parre
Pepper, en leddicher, gutguckicher yunger Breddicher an der Eselschteddler
Kaerrich:
Der Breddicher hot als en arrigi Zeit ghatt fer die Meed un Wittweier
auszureisse; yeders hot hawwe welle er sett sie heemnemme vun der Kaerrich
odder annere Bletz wu sie als gemeet hen.
Der Breddicher waar so en aardlicher verschtennicher Mann, un wie
en verschtennicher Mann ewwe sett, iss er endlich zu der conclusion kumme ass
er ken Ruh in Eselschteddel hawwe kann unless er grickt sich en Fraa.
Awwer well Meedel waer suitable
fer en Breddichers Fraa? “Sell finn ich aus uff en gans original plan,” saagt
der Breddicher wie er zu sich gesmiled hot.
Un was waar sell original plan? Der Breddicher hot mol ee
Windersdaag alde Gleeder aageduh, hot sich lange, groohe Haar uffgesetzt, un
iss die Schtroos nunner wie en alder Dremp. Amme scheene groose Haus hot er
hinne an der Kichedier geglobbt.
“Was will du?” greischt en glee, schtout Weibsmensch wie sie die
Dier uffgerisse hot.
“Ebbes zu esse,” saagt der Dremp.
“Mir hen nix do fer Dremps!” greischt’s Weibsmensch. ‘Kumm, Wasser,
beiss den Loddel!”
“Die Wittfraa Bossem deet net yuscht so en arrigi suitable Fraa
mache fer en Breddicher,” saagt der Dremp wie er zu sich selwer gesmiled hot
us iss ab.
Der Dremp hot’s neegscht am Deacon Omschle sienre Dier geglobbt.
Der Deacon waar en Wittmann, un sei Dochder, die Annie, hot ihm Haus ghalde.
“Kennscht du mir villeicht enwennich zu esse gewwe?” froogt der Dremp.
Ich deet dir gewiss ebbes gewwe, wann ebber do waer fer dir ebbes
Waaremes zu richde, awwer mei Dochder iss noch im Bett, un ich hab really
selwer noch net zu Marrige gesse,” saagt der Deacon. Der Dremp hot dennoh
yuscht fattgeh welle, awwer der Deacon hot ihn neikumme mache un hot Brot un
Budder un en generous supply kaldi Brotwascht uff der Dich geduh.
“Was duscht du mit dem schtinkiche Dremp do hin?” greischt ebber
wie dem schtinkiche Dremp do hin?” greischt ebber wie en Dier uffgange iss.
Der Dremp hot rumgeguckt un datt schteht em Deacon sei Dochder – schtruwwelich,
mit dicke verschloofne Aage, imme dreckiche wrapper un in alde Schuh ass noch
net gegnibbt waare.
Nadierlich iss der Dremp widder ab. Ya, die Annie, hot er zu sich
gedenkt, deet aa ken gudi Breddichers Fraa mache.
Watt der Parre Pepper en Fraa in Eselschteddel finne? Villeicht
finne mer neegscht Woch aus.
Macht’s gut,
Der Alt Professer
|
Dear people:
Today we are continuing with von Nieda’s story about Pastor Pepper,
a single/unmarried good looking young preacher at the Donkeytown church:
The preacher often had a terrible time to escape the girls and
widows; each one of them wanted that he should take them home from church
or other places where they used to meet.
The preacher was such a very reasonable man, and just as a
reasonable man should, he finally came to the conclusion that he could
have no peace in Donkeytown unless he got himself a wife.
But what girl would be suitable for a preacher’s wife? “I’ll find
that out with a very original plan,” says the preacher as he smiles to
himself.
And what was that original plan? One winter’s day the preacher put
on old clothes, put on a long gray hair, and went down the street like an
old tramp. At a large nice house he knocked in the back on the kitchen
door.
“What do you want?” cries a
little, stout woman when she had ripped open the door.
“Something to eat,” says the tramp.
“We don’t have anything here for tramps!” yells the woman. “Come,
Wasser (a very common dog’s name), bite that bum!”
“Widow Bossem just wouldn’t make such a very suitable wife for a
preacher,” says the tramp as he smiled to himself and left.
The tramp next knocked on Deacon Omschle’s kitchen door. The deacon
was a widower, and his daughter, Annie, kept house for him. “Could you
perhaps give me a little food to eat?” asks the tramp.
“I would certainly like to give you something if someone were here
to prepare something warm, but my daughter is still in bed, and I really
haven’t had breakfast myself yet,” says the deacon. The tramp then wanted
to just go away, but the deacon made him come in, and put a generous
supply of bread and butter and cold sausage on the table.
“What are you doing with that stinking tramp in here?” cries
someone as a door opened up. The tramp looked around and there stands the
deacon’s daughter - hair all a mess, with swollen sleepy eyes, in a dirty
housecoat, and in old shoes that weren’t tied yet.
Naturally, the tramp took off again. Yes, he thought to himself,
Annie also wouldn’t make a good preacher’s wife.
Will the Pastor Pepper find
a wife in Donkeytown? Maybe we’ll find out next week.
Take care,
The Old Professor |
