PETER Å FRIDA (Enj borrinjholmsk sansâga)

                                                                                                                                                                            Skrevved udå Peter Sæl 1947

                                                                                                                                                                               Nu ska ni høra om Peter å Frida som uda i Vestermarkersen bo.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Å va jâ sajjer på ded kanj ni lida, sânt e vert enaste or kanj ni tro.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Frida gjikk jemma hos fârinj som pajja – Peter jolp bønnerna plojja å majja,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           mænd ded va sjæjlan hanj fikjkje nâd djort, så hans fortjæneste vaj ju mæst lort.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Hon holt å hanja å hanj holt å honer, bægjgje di monglade ikjkje hormoner,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           bægjgje di va Væstermarkkjærkebo – Peter frå Smorrænga å Frida frå Spro.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Ota ijnj så dom så hæjlua vandra, kjøssa å fægjgjes forsto di dom på,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           sâgen e dænj, di hadde trænad på anra, for lid erfârinj e got, dæmmeså!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Mæn henad jyl så går Frida å gjyzer, sajjer te Peter: ”du Peter jâ fryzer,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           nu må du fankemaj rompa daj op – gje maj enj pæls, dær kanj varma minj krop!”

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Peter hanj gjikk to-tre dâ, kansje fira, veste ju got a enj pæls ded e fint,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           mæn dænj e dyr så ijnj må spekkelera – stjâl så en tajnebog oppa på Klint.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Kjøfte enj pæls, dær va bløder å nætter, kjâula å hozzer å to korselætter

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           å enj pyjamas å sølketriko så stor a dænj kunje di hâ bægjgje to!

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Peter hanj hadde nu troffed ded rætta: Frida hon ble umanerlijer glâ.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Kjelen hon ble som en klokkarakjætta – mæn ak ded vârde kuns små fjârtan dâ.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Kvinjfolk bler storajtu, når di får pælsa – ville nu nâue på Peterinj hælsa.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Hon ble så nobel å så kolturel, så nu vil hon visa saj på Kanns Hotæl!

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Frida hon syntes a Peter va værkan klåg æjle fin, mæn så dø som enj sijl.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Javade hannem a stâ, å ver kjærkan, trof hanj enj vâuvnmanj å lajde enj bil.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           ”Tøsen ska mora saj, sjid vad ed koster”.  -  Ded gâ for Frida på såred et ploster.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Hon fikjkje pæls på å næsan i sjy, kjøre me Peter te Åkjærkeby.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Pibla me pæls på å storajtu mina, di kanj så læt på et bal få en tjans.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Frida slop inj, mæn o sâbrians pina: Peter hanj ble smeddinj ud idå Kanns.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Bârhâudad, kjiwåd me krøjlua bojser, ble hanj te grin å ble kalt for enj lojser,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           å mæns hon svingde sinj søndia krop, trok hanj så kjiwåd sinj bojserem op.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Henry frå brøgsen hanj dajnjste me Frida – Peter va nagger å galinj å sur.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           ”Jâ vil på kvinjfolkafanskawed sjida”, sâ hanj å gjikk runjt i bøjn saj en tur.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Væm vad hanj møtte på Doktarabakkanj? – Frida me Henrysa arm omkring nakkanj!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Fost ble hanj paf, så hanj svalte sinj skro, så ble han joner, hanj ville se blo!

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Peter gâ Henry enj donner i skrâtan, så hanj kvab om å ble ligjgjenes dær.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Spottade Frida i fjæsed – ”dinj sâtan! bølinj stå i daj din skabbua mær!”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Frida skræj op å så kom polletied – Peter kom frøgtelij galt opidied,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           hanj fikjkje feria – jo kos mæn ilæl – ikkje på Kanns, mæn på ”Krojsbærs Hotæl”!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Nu hâr hanj ganske taft løsten te honer, hanj e kurèrder å fri for hormoner.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Frida, ja hon må nu âu tâ’d me ro – nu sedder hon å vagger dæroppa i Spro!