On Der Enoggeration Ball

Du mindsht nuch ferleicht fun sellem oldta gowl woo dote gonga is em sexta Nov. 6, 1888.

Ich hob ge sawd de official luder-grobba data ene farrisa eb are recht dote ware.

Won du by mere in Washingdon ge west waersht dorrich de enoggeration don kensht du en idea forma we feel luder-grobba dos es in denna United States hut.

Washingdon hut ge schwarmed mit office sucher we de micka uff ma dota asel.

De Polly wore mit nunner.

Es wore es arsht mohl dos se ous America wore un es hut se wooner-bawr gableesed.

Wile ich en kondadawt bin far de Hawsa Barrick pusht-office bin ich grawd ins Wise House ni.

Der Harrison wore om karabet nunner nawgla in anes fun da shtoopa un ich bin uff galuffa tsu eme, my hond nows ge shtrecked un hob ge sawd,

We gates, Bench? Ware bisht du? hut are ge sawt.

Des hut mich base gamaucht, un ich hob ge sawt, Coom mer mit so norrheita.

Ich hob duch far dich ge shtimmed, now kent mich nemond mae noach dem dos eer ketzer my shtim het.

Derno hov ich mich uff ge shtrecked tsu minera fulla leng un hob ge sawd,

Ich bin der Boonastiel fum Hawsa Barrick!

Der shtrain hut mere en gallus-knup ob Garissa un ich hob hinere galongt far ene greega.

Der Harrison hut gamaned ich date far en pishtole longa un en mon mt bloa glaider un gaila knep hut mich nows g-feared.

Won der Billy Bixler by mere ge west ware don het es en fuss gevva, awver ich un de Polly wora lae un se kon net feel do except mit eram mowl, Ich glawb ferleicht duch net os es der Bench selver wore.

Won ich shure ware don date ich eme si gons kocha won are widder rous coomed far Bresident.

Owets sin mere derno on der enoggeration Ball, un so socha hov ich in meim laeva net ge saena.

Ich hob shunt shtouta weipsleit ge saena awver nee net so weit nunner.

Ei, es wore miner sale en shont mit era low-neck gowns.

De hoongericha bublin hen ivveroll room awfonga heila.

Ich hob anera ge sawd von se ken hem het don date de Polly era es ous un era es gevva, wile de Polly anyhow net donsa wet, derno is era mon cooma un hut mich dexla wella.

Yaw, hov ich ge sawt, shlock du mull der Boomnastiel, derno brech ich dich fun-nonner un sae wos in dere is. Are hut net.

Ich wore usht in trim far de gons ferdihenkert administration garava.

De Moosic wore ge furnished by em Simmy Roush sime flying-horse orchestra.

Der Quay un der John Wanamaker hen gagiked, un der Dan Hastings hut de boss drum gablosa.

Unser Jury Commissioner hut ob-garoofa, un es hut mere ols recht hame-wae ge maucht ene ivver oll de yocht hara greisha, Salute your p-pa-paùardner, b-b-b-balance all, swing your p-pard-pardner, Damet, look out o-o-over there and d-d-donet mix up so.

De monsleit hen negel-rupper reck aw ge hot, grawd we miner, usht se wora net so antique.

My gross-fodder hut miner ge wora om General Jackson sinera enoggeration.

Se hen sider gadrunka dos finf dawler de buddla wore, Se hene s shampaginy wasser ge ehaesa.

Der sham wore im mawga, un der pain is cooma won mer uff ge sobered is.

Ich hob de enoggeration bully enjoyed, Washingdon is en grosse shtodt, awver far ruich laeva un sailich shtarva geb mere un der Polly nuch unser oldte schwarda shandy om Hawsa Barrick.

A Little Bit of This and That

You might remember yet about that old horse that died on Nov. 6, 1888.

I said the official turkey buzzard would tear him to pieces before he was completely dead.

If you would have been with me in Washington during the inauguration then you could form an idea how many turkey buzzards there are in these United States.

Washington was swarming with as many office seekers as there are flies on a dead mule.

Polly went along. It was the first time as she was out of America and she was wonderfully amazed.

Since I was a candidate for the Harrisburg Post Office, I went right into the White House.

Harrison was down the carpet (the hallway) in one of the rooms and I walked up to him, my hand outstretched and said, “How is it going Ben?”

“Who are you?” he said.

This made me mad, and I said, “I am so foolish. I voted for you, now no one knows the scoundrel who got my vote.”

Then I stretched to my full height and said,

“I am Boonastiel from Harrisburg!”

The strain caused a yellow button to tear off (my garment) and I reached behind me to get it.

Harrison thought I was reaching for a pistol and a man with blue clothing and yellow buttons thought I was dangerous.

If Billy Bixler were with me there would have been a fuss, but me and Polly were alone and she cannot do much except with her mouth.

I think maybe Ben was not alone.

If I were sure, then it would cost him the whole election if he comes out again for president.

At night we went to the inauguration ball, and I never saw such things in my life.

I saw stout women already, but not so buxom.

Ei, there were many there with low-neck gowns.

The “hungry” boys started howling all over the room.

I told one of them that if she did not have a shirt, Polly would give her one of her own, since Polly did not want to dance anyway then the woman’s husband came and wanted to thrash me.

“Yeah,” I said, “Hit Boonastiel, then I will tear you apart and all your teeth as well.” He did not.

I was just in the mood to turn the whole administration over to the devil.

The music was furnished by Simon Rauch’s flying-horse orchestra.

Quay and John Wanamaker fiddled, and Dan Hastings played the bass.

Our jury commissioner started calling over all the noise and it made me homesick, “Salute your partner,” “balance all,” “Swing your partner,” “Darn it, look out over there and don’t mix up so.”

The men had fancy coats on, just like mine, but theirs were not so antique.

My grandfather wore mine to General Jackson’s inauguration.

We drank cider that cost $5 a bottle. They called it Champagne water.

The shame was in the stomach, and the pain came when we got sober.

I truly enjoyed the inauguration.

Washington is a big city, but it is far quieter to live and die for me and Polly at our old shanty in Harrisburg.

***

Editor’s note: Fun Boonastiel in Pennsylvania Dutch by T.H. Harter, Bellefonte, PA (1904).

Translated by Mary Bittner Henry.