PA German Dialect

Es Neinuhr Schtick

8-07-03

Ihr liewe Leit:

   Im Lloyd A. Moll seim Buch "Am Schwarze Baer" kann mer en Schtori finne ass ich heit mol aafange will. Der Moll (1879-1944) hot net viel Englisch benutze misse; sei Deitsch iss en Luscht zu lese. Mer fange aa:

Der Parre Heimbach hot sei gleeni Fuchsmaerr eigschpannt fer geh en Gemeensglied bsuche. Er waar imme haerrliche Mut. Geschder waar die Aernkaerrich, un's Kallekt fer ihn waar nau gewiss net so schlecht. Er fiehlt recht luschdich dodewege un peift un singt die Weil er am Uffscharre iss. Er schteigt uff der Waage, saagt, "Gid aep, Dalli," un's Fichsel drollt die Leen naus un die Schtrooss nunnery, mit em Parre gemietlich im Sitz geneschelt.

   Der Parre faahrt viel im Land rum; sei drei Gemee sin zimmlich weit verschtreckt, awwer er iss behaft sei Gemeengliedre meh wie ee Mol's Yaahr zu bsuche. Er dingt's sei Pflicht fer yedes zu bsuche.

Wie gsaat, er faahrt viel, un mit seim allfatt allee uff der Schtrooss rumyackere mit seim Fichsel, hot sich aagewehnt zu sich selwert zu schwetze un singe. 'S iss aa net recht gsunge, 's meh wie gebrummt. Efders browiert er sei neegschti Breddich aus uff die Dalli, un mer kennt meene sie deet's verschteh, wie sie eent un dann's anner Ohr zerricklegt fer here was er saagt.

   Wann ihr in der Bax vum Schpazierwegelche sei hedde kenne, hett ner so ebbes vumme Gschpreech un Gemummel gheert: Tu lu la le la, bum um la, net so schtarrig, Dalli, mer hen blendi Zeit - la lu la, gell. Dalli, die Leit hen heiffich eigschmisse geschder. Ich hab ne awwer aa en gudi Breddich gewwe - la lu la-loss mol sehne -was kennt mer nemme fer der neegscht Text - der Text fer geschder geht aa fer die Zions un die Paulus Kaerrich - un wann die mer so en gudi Kalleckt bringt an denne Gemee wie mer ghatt hen geschder - la la lu lu - ei Dalli, gewwich dir drei Gwaart Hawwer schtatt zwee, un wann du so rund waerscht wie en Bauchzuwwer - la lu la - nau was fer en Text? Soll ich vum aarme Lazarus odder vum reiche Mann un em Nodelaag breddiche, was saagscht, Dalli?

   La, la - gid aep, net so langsaam - la la - ich hab's! Es waar en Gnopp im Karreb in de letschde Missions Kaerrich, un ich will wette der geizich Feddermann hot en nei - ya, dem will ich mol die Hell vorschtelle, der reich Schtaerndunner! Hol up, Parre, sell iss beidemmt gflucht, gell, Dalli?"

   Schaad, awwer mer misse fer heit uffheere. Meh neegscht Woch.

Macht's gut,
Der Alt Professer

Dear people:

   In Lloyd A. Moll's book, "At the Sign of the Black Bear" you can find a story that I would Like to start today. Moll (1879-1944) didn't have to use much English; his PG is a joy to read. We now begin:

"Pastor Heimbach hitched up his little sorrel mare to go to visit a member of the congregation. He was in a glorious mood. Yesterday had been the harvest home service, and the collection for him was now certainly not so bad. He feels right happy about that and whistles and sings while he is hitching up. He climbs up into the wagon, says "Giddyap, Dolly," and the little sorrel jogs out the land and down the street, with the pastor comfortably nestled in the seat.

   The pastor drives around the country quite a bit, his three congregations are rather far distributed, but he is obliged to visit the members of the congregation more than once a year. He considers it his duty to visit everyone.

   As we have said, he drives a lot, and because he is always alone on the road with his sorrel, he has gotten into the habit of talking and singing to himself. It isn't rightly singing, it is more of a humming. Often he tries out his next sermon on Dolly, and one could think that she understands it, how she lays back the one and then the other ear to hear what he says.

   If you could be in the box (body) of the buggy, you would hear something like this of a talking and mumbling: Tu lu la le la, bum um la, not so fast Dolly, we have plenty of time - la lu la, right, Dolly, the people threw in a whole lot yesterday. But I gave them a good sermon - la lu la - let me see - what could one take for the next text - the text from yesterday will also go for the Zions and the St. Paul churches - and if they bring such a good collection at those two congregations as we had yesterday - la la lu lu - ei, Dolly, I'll give you three quarts of oats instead of two, even if you get as round as a bucking or pickling tub - la lu la - now what kind of a text? Should I preach to them about poor Lazerus or about the rich man and the eye of the needle, what do you say, Dolly?

   La la - giddyap, not so slow - la la - I have it! There was a button in the basket at the last mission chuch service, and I bet that cheap Fetterman put it in - yes, I want to introduce hell to him, that rich "star thunder" (not so bad in English, is it!) Hold up, pastor, that is, by damn, cursing, right, Dolly?

   A shame, but we have to quit for today. More next week.

Take care,
The Old Professor

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