En Glee Bissell des un Sell

De Housebutz Gichtera Brecha Widder Ous

De Polly, hut de woch widder de house-butz gichtera greeked, un ich shribe dare breef im bed.

Ich wase net won ich rouse coom, farleicht gor nimmy.

Won ich shtareb don hov ich de farsicherung dos woo ich onna gae wart ken house mae ga-butzed.

De shult os ich net my bed farlussa con is des.

De Polly hut awfonga house-butza em Moondawg morga, awer de gichtera hen shunt en woch derfore in era g’shoft g’hot.

Em Moondawg nocht wore ich ons Hullerhecka far en bushel reeva onna doo os der Sammy Sensawetzer fun mere g’wunna hut uff de ‘lection, un ich hob en lot agents aw ga-druffa os glaeder, kardoo, tzooker un so soch farkawft hen tzoom Mike Blotner far si nier shtore.

Se wora oll fina karls - hen shtitza heed ga-wora we miner, weisa hemmer, un fina glader aw g’hot.

Se hens awfonga uff setza ous der schwortza buddle un es arsht os ich g’wist hob wore ich widder boomerawlish foll.

About elf uhr hen se mich hame g’feered, un we ich on unser house (ich mane der Polly era house) cooma bin hov ich era ga-roofa far runner cooma un mich ni hola un ins bed doo.

We se cooma is sin de agents fart g’shprunga.

Ich hob era g’sawt dos ich glawva daid der schlawg het mich in de bae ga-druffa, awver we se my ochtum ga-rucha hut don hut se g’sawt se daid denka der schlawg ware mere der hols nunner, un se daid settla mit mere der naixt morga.

Ich bin de spicher-shtake nuff uff hend un fees un se is hinna noch un g-shova mit da hend.

Dinshdawg morga hut se mere ga-roofa far uff shtae uns fire maucha.

Ich bin tzum bed rous we en haws, un der tzwet shrit bin ich in en tae-bledly foll carrabet tacks ga-draida.

Ich hob morderlich ga-grisha un bin fore g-shprunga, don fleegt der bed shtulla uff un shlawgt mere uffs link awg os ich fire-funga g’saena hob so grose os sooma-karrebsa.

Es wore gor shtarns kold, un ich hob gli gens-howd on da bae g’hot os we parshing shtae.

Endlich hov ich don de shtaik g’funna un bin nunner g-shtart.

Der arsht shrit os ich ga-mauched hob bin ich uff en shtick safe ga-draida.

Dart is der accident g’happened.

Ich bin de shtaik nunner os we en bundel long shtrow ivver en schnae-grusht.

Ich hob gamaned es hetta en dutzent asel mich ga-kicked un derno wars gons house uff mich g’folla.

We ich g’shtupped hob hov ich ken genes-howd mae g’hot - un net feel onery.

Ich hob der Polly ga-roofa dos ich ware dote un se set cooma mich dobber ouslaga eb ich so shtife daid warra.

Se is cooma un hut grawd g’shicked for der duckter Heffelfinger.

Are hut mich examined un hut g’sawt ich het dri-un-tzwonsich ribba farbrucha, un het aws g’netz farsprengt.

Are hut mere de bulse g’feeled, my tzung bagooked, mere drei pilferlin gevva, un mich tswae dawler ga-charged.

Ich hob mich farschwora ich daid de pilferlin net nemma, un de Polly hut g’sawt es ware shawd se aweck schmisa un wile de kotz shunt a pawr dawg der rutzer het daid se era de pilferlin gevva.

Se hut. De kotz is now dote.

Won ich in mime laeva widder uff coom don will ich selly kotz shae fargrawva wile se my laeva g’safed hut.

Won ich ung-fare dote gae set don will ich hovva os du all my glaeder greekst, der Billy Bixler sull de holb-bind buddle keffer-bree hovva os ich unich em oldta Sammy Sensawetzer sime hoystuck far-grawva hob, un de Polly sull olles soonsht hovva, except my neie biskotza burglar-proof safe.

Selly sull em Dellawetter g’shicked si far si majority ni schleesa.

Es sull aw ken lawyer ga-dinked warra far dare willa shriva soonsht daid are unser hamet farkawfa far si batzawling.

Dare willa is g’mauched mit meim gooda farshtond - des is mit so gooter farshtond os ich in mime laeva g’hot hob, un anich ains fun da araver os kicked dare sull gor nix hovva.

A Little Bit of

This and That

Housecleaning Convulsions Break Out Again

This week Polly got the housecleaning convulsions again, and I am writing this letter in bed.

I do not know when I will get out again, maybe never.

If I die then I have the security that where I go there will be no more housecleaning.

The reason I cannot get out of my bed is this.

Polly began housecleaning on Monday morning but the convulsions began a week before in her mind.

On Monday night, I went to Hullerhecka for a bushel turnips, and Sammy Sensawetzer lived near me at the election, and I met a lot of agents who bought clothing, cards, sugar and such things from Mike Blotner from his new store.

They were all fine gentlemen - wearing top hats like mine, white shirts and fine clothing.

They started to set up the drinks from the black bottle and the first thing I remembered was that I was extremely full again.

About 11 o’clock they drove me home, and when I came to our house (I mean Polly’s house) I called her to come down and help me get into bed.

When she came, the agents ran away.

I told her I believed the sheath from the horse hit me in the legs, but when she smelled my breath, she said she thought the sheath went down my throat, and she would settle with me the next morning.

I went up the stair steps on hands and feet and she was behind me shoving me with her hands.

Tuesday morning she called me to get up and make the fire.

I got out of bed feeling pretty bad, and the second step I took, I stepped into a tea leaf full of carpet tacks.

I yelled bloody murder and ran forward, then the bed chair flew up and hit me on the left eye that I thought it caught fire and it got as big as summer pumpkins.

It was like seeing stars, and I shortly got a lump on the legs like a peach stone.

Finally, I found the stairs and started to go down. The first step that I made, I stepped on a piece of soap.

That is when the accident happened.

I went down the steps like a bale of straw thrown over a crust of snow.

I thought a dozen mules kicked me and then the whole house fell on me.

When I stopped, I had no more fear - and not much order.

I called Polly that I was dead and she should come and lay me out before I would get too stiff.

She came and sent for Doctor Heffelfinger right away.

He examined me and said I had 23 broken ribs, and had burst my momentum.

He felt my pulse, looked at my tongue, gave me three pills, and charged me $2.

I swore I would not take the pills, and Polly said it was a shame that she had to throw them away when the cat had a cold for a few days, so she gave the cat the pills.

The cat is now dead.

If ever I get better, I want to bury that cat in a nice place since it saved my life.

Well, I am almost dead, so I want Billy Bixler to get all my clothing, and the half-pint bottle of bug stuff that I put under old Sammy Sensawetzer’s haystack to bury things with, and Polly should get everything else, except my new skunk burglar-proof safe.

That should be sent to Dellawetter to lock in his majority.

There should also not be a lawyer hired to write this will or the house will have to be sold to pay the bill.

This will is made with my good understanding - this is with such good understanding that I in my life have had, and any heir who got kicked out shall get nothing.

***

Editor’s note: Boonastiel Pennsylvania Dutch By T.H. Harter, Bellefonte, PA (1904). Translated by Mary Bittner Henry.