Es Pennsilfaanisch Deitsch Eck

(Originally published in the March 14, 1984 issue of
The Shopping News)

Die Tietschern
Un Der Bu
By Der Maardi vun de Gass

Die Schul is ball iwwer un sell is yuscht fei:

Ich geh zu der Tietschern un geb re Good-bye.

Aweck mit die Bicher, Pensil un Chalk;

Ich saag, du sehscht aa ken Draen in mei Aag.

Die Tietschern, sie saagt, sie hot nau emol Ruh;

“Sis nix hadder uff die Narefe wie seller Bu.

Ich geh heem un ich blaan fer geh uff en Trip:

Zu Eskimo-Land in en grosse Schiff.”

Dem Buh sei Plans waare schun lang uff geduh,

Fer Schwimme un fische un en Latt meh dazu.

Mir packe unser Esse un gehn fer en Hike,

Un wann mir heem kumme, not reit ich der Bike.

Die Tietschern, sie geht zu dem Land owwedraus,

Un vergesst den Bu un sei Rumgehaus.

Do findt sie en Zeit, as die Sunn geht net nunner,

Un vielleicht findt sie Gold; s waer mir aa ken Wunner.

Der Bu hot ausgfunne, es geht net allfatt wie er meent

Wann er heemkumme is, waar’s him ganz verleedt.

Der Daadi un Mammi, sie hen aa ihre Blaanes geduh,

Fer die Zeit, wann sie schliesse die Schuldaere zu.

Die Tietschern geht aa mit ihre Touring Brigade

Un seht wie sie duhne in dem Alaska-State.

Der Buh, er schafft oweds bis “quarter zu eight,”

Un is froh, as die Sunn alle Daag nunnergeht.

Not aan mit ihre Journey die Tietschern, sie findt

En Eskimo-Familye mit ihr gleenes Kind.

Sis ebbes fer lese in Bicher daheem,

Awwer, oh! fer datt sei, sis gaar net daseem.

Not denkt die Tietschern: “Do bin ich so weit:

Uff’m Top vun der Welt; doch mit dem Gfiehl inseit:

Wie macht’s mit de Kinner un sellem Bu?

Bis ich an die Schul bin, do hawwich ken Ruh.

Dem Bu sei Gedanke gehn ganz hie un her:

“Fer schaffe bis dunkel zu mir is net fair.

Fer mich zu geh fische, des waer mir es lieb.”

Awwer der Daadi saagt: “Halt aan! Ich sehn, es watt drieb.”

Un dann saagt der Daadi, “Why, der Harbscht is ball do;

Glei ringt die Schulbell: wie geht’s mit mir dann?”

Der Bu, er saagt nix, awwer der Daadi deteckt

En Gliem in sie Aag un es geht aa net weck.

Nau vielleicht sett mer der Bu net zu schtreng halde;

Un die Tietschern, sie hot ball ihr ganz Hatz der Arewet gewwe.

Kumm, bsuch die Schul; wennicher settscht du net duh.

Es macht ihr Daag viel besser un is en Hilf zu dem Bu.

The Teacher And The Boy

The school is about over and that is just fine:

I’ll go to my teacher and give her Good-bye.

Away with the books, pencil and chalk,

And I tell you, you see no tear in my eye.

The teacher says now she will have rest;

“There’s nothing harder on the nerves than that boy.

I’ll go home and plan to go on a trip:

To Eskimo land in a big ship.”

The boy’s plans were made up a long while ago,

To go swimming and fishing and a whole lot more.

“We’ll pack our dinner and go on a hike,

And when we come home, I’ll ride my bike.”

The teacher goes to the land way up there,

And forgets this boy and his fooling around.

Here she finds a time where the sun does not set,

And maybe she’ll find gold; it would not amaze me.

The boy found out, it isn’t always as he thinks,

For when he came home, he was quite depressed.

For father and mother did their planning, too,

For the time when they close the schoolhouse doors.

The teacher goes on with her touring group,

And sees how they’re doing in the state of Alaska.

The boy works evenings till quarter to eight,

And is glad that the sun sets every day.

Then on with her journey the teacher finds

An Eskimi family with a little child.

It is something to read about in books back home,

But, oh! to be there: It’s just not the same!

Then the teacher thinks: “Here I am so far away:

On the top of the world, yet with this feeling inside:

How are the children and that boy?

Till I’m back at school I’ll have no rest.”

The boy’s thoughts wander here and there:

“To work until dark to me is not fair.

To go fishing would suit me the best.”

But father says: “Keep on! I see it’s getting cloudy.”

Soon father says: “Why, fall is about here;

Soon the school bell will ring; what will I do then?”

The boy says nothing, but the father detects

A gleam in his eye and it won’t go away.

Now, maybe we should not be too hard on the boy;

And the teacher soon gave about her whole year to her work.

Come, visit our school; no less should you do.

It makes her day better and is a help to the boy.

***

Probably the greatest satisfaction we get from writing these weekly ECK’s is receiving original material in the dialect from a reader. At this writing, we are most grateful to “der Maardi vun de Gass” for his contributions last week and this week. We hope he will be inspired to take up his Dutch pen again real soon. We hope his example has inspired others to do likewise. As we finish this column, the sun is shining, it’s well above freezing, so we flourish our defrosted Deitscher Schtrohhut again toward “die Gass!”

March 14, 1984

Es Bischli-Gnippli