How Sockery Set a Hen, or The Old Blue Hen Schecken

When I came across this, I noticed that there were differences between how it is written here and how Grandma recited it. For example, in her version, the man's name was "Zacharias," rather than "Sockery" or "Zachary." Either way, it's still a fun, old story. I found a comment that said this is a great example of Pennsylvania Dutch dialect.

SHORT STORY – “SOCKERY” SETTING A HEN – from Poultry Bulletin
Meester Ettitur: I see dot mosd effer poty wrides something for de shicken bapers nowadays I can do dot too, so wride all about yot dook blace mit me lasht summer; you know – oder uf you dond know, den I dells you – dot Katrina (dot is mine vow) und me, ve keep some shickens for a long dime ago, und von tay she sait to me “Sockery” (dot is mein name), “vy dond you put some uf de aigs under dot olt plue hen shikens. I dinks she vants to sate.” “Vell,” I sait,”meppe I guess I vill,” so I bicked out some uf de best aigs und dook un oud do de parn fere de olt her make hen nesht in de side uf de hay-mow, pound fife six feet up; now you see I nefer was ferry big up and down, but I vos booty pig all de vay around in de mittle, so I koodn’t reach up dill I vent und got a parrel do stant on; vell I klimet me on dis parrel, und ven my hed rise up py de nesht, dot olt hen she gif me such a bick dot my nose runs all ofter my face mit blood, and ven I todge pack dot plasted olt parrel het preak, und I vent town kershlam, py cholly, I din’t tink I kood go insite a parrel pefore, put dere I vos, und I fit so dite dot I koodn’t git me oud efferway, mu fest (vest) vas bushed vay up, unter my arem-holes; ven I found I vos dite shtuck, I holler “Katrina! Katrina!” und ven she koom and see mee shtuck in de parrel up to arm-holes, mit my face all plood and agis, py cholly, she chust lait town on de hay und laft und laft, till I got so mat I sait, “Vot you lay dere und laf like a olt vool, eh? Vy dond you knoom bull me oud?” Und she set up and sait, “Oh, vipe off your chin, und bull your fest town: “ den she lait back und laft like she vood shplit herself more as ever. Mat as I vas I tought to myself, Katrina, she sheak English booty goot, but I only sai, mit my greatest dignitude; “Katrina, vill you bull me oud dis parrel?” und she see dot I look booty red, so she sait, “of course I vill,Socery,” den she lait me and de parrel town on our site, und I dook holt de door-sill, und Katrina she bull on de pattel, but de first bull she mate I tellet, “donner und blitzen, shtop dat, by golly; dere is nails in de parrel!” You see de nails bent town ven I vent in, but ven I koom oud dey schticks in me all de vay rount; vell, to make a short shtory long, I told Katrina to go und dell naypor Hansman to pring a saw und saw me dis pattel off; vell, he koom und he like to shblit himslef mit laf, too, but he roll me ofer and saw de parrel dll de vay around off, und I git up mit half a parrel around my vaist, den Katrina she say, “Sockery, vait a little till I get a battern of do new oferskirt you haf on,” byut I din’t sait a vort, I shust jot a knife ond und vittle hoops off und shling do confoundt old parrel in de voot pile.
Pimeby ven I koom in de house, Katrina she said, so soft like, “Sockery, dond you go in to byt some aigs under dot old plue hen?” den I sait, in my deepst voice, “Katrina, uff you effer say dot to me again I’ll git a pill from you, help me chiminy craciots,” und I dell you, she didn’t say dot any more. Vell, Mr. Verris, ven I stop on a parrel now, I dond step on it, I git a pox. Very drooly yours.
- Sockery Kadahcut