LL-L "Holidays" 2003.12.05 (01) [E]

[Lowlands-L]

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L O W L A N D S - L * 05.DEC.2003 (01) * ISSN 189-5582 * LCSN 96-4226
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A=Afrikaans Ap=Appalachian B=Brabantish D=Dutch E=English F=Frisian
L=Limburgish LS=Lowlands Saxon (Low German) N=Northumbrian
S=Scots Sh=Shetlandic V=(West)Flemish Z=Zeelandic (Zeêuws)
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From: R. F. Hahn <lowlands-l at lowlands-l.net>
Subject: Holidays

Dear Lowlanders,

Happy St. Nicolas Day to all of you who will celebrate it tomorrow, December
6!

I know that it is the most important holiday of the Christmas season for
most of our friends in and from the Netherlands and Belgium.  This is the
day of St. Nikolaos, an exceptionally charitable Byzantian bishop, and thus
the theme of this holiday is giving.  Under early Dutch colonial influence,
his name, "Sinterklaas,"  evolved into "Santa Claus," the North American
equivalent of Father Christmas.  December 6 is celebrated in Northern
Germany also -- Lowlands Saxon (Low German) _Nikla(a)sdag_, German
_Nikolaustag_ -- though it takes the back seat to Christmas, and only minor
gifts are involved, supposedly placed in children's (hopefully polished)
shoes overnight by the man himself.  (In our home we had to put our shoes on
an inside window sill and say a Nicolas verse before going to bed the night
before.)

Enjoy, folks!  May Saint Nick be charitable to you!

Regards,
Reinhard/Ron

***

Some seasonal ditties in Lowlands Saxon:


1)
   Sünner Klaas, du gode Bloot,
   geev mi 'n Stückje Sukkergoot,
   nich to vööl un nich to minn,
   smiet mi't man to de Schösteen rin!

   2)
   Slaap, Kindken, slaap!
   Bold ritt de Sünder Klaas,
   un slöppst du denn,
   denn kümmt he ran,
   vun Gold so blank,
   de hillige Mann.

   3)
   Sunner Klaas, de grote Mann,
   kloppt an alle Dören an.
   Lütte Kinner bringt he wat,
   Grote stickt he in 'en Sack.

   4)
   Sünder Klaas dat is 'n Eddelmann,
   'n Eddelmann is he,
   he hett 'n Büx van Krinten an,
   'n Rock van Risebree.
   Sien Oogskes sünd Rosientjes,
   sien Hoor dat is Söötholt.
   Sien Lippen sünd van Sukkergood,
   sien Wangen sünd van Gold.

5)
   Lebe gode Sünner Klaas,
   büst öber alle Kinner Baas,
   ried op dienen Schimmel
   vun den hogen Himmel.
   Unsen Pollo bindt wi an,
   dat he di nich bieten kann.
   Hillige Mann, gah nich vörbi,
   Sünner Klaas, wi bidden di!

***
Transliteration (Algemeyne Neddersassische Schryvwys'):

1)
   Sünner Klaas, du goude bloud,
   geev’ mi ’n stükje sukkergoud,
   nich tou vööl un nich tou min.
   Smyt mi ’t man tou dey schösteyn rin!

2)
   Slaap, kindken, slaap!
   Bold ritt dey Sünder Klaas,
   un slöpst du den,
   den kümt hey ran,
   vun gold so blank,
   dey hillige man.

3)
   Sunner Klaas, dey grote man,
   klopt an alle dören an.
   Lütte kinder bringt hye wat.
   Grote stikt hey in ’nen sak.

4)
   Sünder Klaas, dat is ’n eddelman,
   ’n eddelman is hey.
   Hey het ’n büks van krinten an,
   ’n rok van rysebrey.
   Syn oogskes sünd rosyntjes.
   Syn haar, dat is söytholt.
   Syn lippen sünd van sukkergoud.
   Syn wangen sünd van gold.

5)
   Leyve, goude Sünner Klaas,
   büst över alle kinder baas.
   Ryd’ op dynen schimmel
   vun d’n hogen himmel.
   Unsen Pollo bindt wy an,
   dat hey dy nich byten kan.
   Hillige man, ga nich vörby!
   Sünner Klaas, wy bidden dy.

***

 (Draft translations)

   1)
   Saint Nicolas, you dearest blood,
   Give me a piece of sugar bread,
   Not too large and not too small!
   Throw it down the chimney to me!

2)
   Sleep, my child, sleep!
   Soon Saint Nicolas will be riding,
   And if you’ll sleep then
   He’ll approach
   Aglow with gold,
   The holy man.

3)
   Saint Nicolas, the great man,
   Knocks on all the doors.
   He’ll bring gifts to little ones.
   He’ll stick big ones in the sack.

4)
   Saint Nicolas, he’s a nobleman,
   A nobleman is he.
   Wears breeches made of gingerbread,
   A coat of rice pudding.
   His little eyes are raisins.
   His hair, it’s licorice.
   His lips are made of candy.
   His cheeks are made of gold.

5)
   Dearest, kindest Saint Nicklas,
   You are all the children’s boss.
   Come riding on your white horse
   Down from heaven high!
   We’ll tether our Pollo
   So he won’t go and bite.
   Holy Man, don’t pass us by!
   Saint Nicolas, we beg of you.


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