Wahlwies

Wahlwies is a small town in the western part of the South German province Hegau which may be properly translated as The Shire (no offence meant, Mr Tolkien), in the vicinity of the beautiful Lake of Constance. The next bigger town is Stockach, about 6 kms away. The word "Wahlwies", literally (and senselessly) translated "Election Meadows", is supposed to stem from "Walawis" which means "Battlefield"; from some large and terrible battle which took place there before times long rotten; the Celts seemed to have played a part in it and maybe other Germanic tribes which were on their way to the southern pastures of Helvetia.

Wahlwies was first mentioned in the year 839, which caused the people great joy in 1989 because they could celebrate the 1150th anniversary. The populace are mostly farmers, apple farmers, to be exact; the area is famous for its fruits and vegetables. My grandparents have been farmers themselves, working all their hard lives long on the fields they inherited from their ancestors, or in the saw mill that was established when the railway line was built at the end of the 19th century.

However, after World War II the village peace was disrupted by intruders: The Anthroposophs ("Anthros") crept in and built a Pestalozzi village for the many orphaned war children; they elected Wahlwies as their abode and in their wake brought many elements foreign to the apple farmers: anthroposophic ideas, lifestyles and art, and a private Steiner school, which attracted many people of the same creed. A continuous stream of "Movers-In" poured into the village already shaken to its foundations by the glamour of the "Wirtschaftswunder"; and so the village society is by today divided into two parts: the traditional farmers on their side, and the anthros keeping together on the other side; and there's hardly any intercourse or connection between the two worlds.

In between this situation I grew up: Our house was situated at the borderline to the Pestalozzi village, and I felt the clash between the "Lozis" and the traditional village boys; a situation which seems absurd now as I look on it from above. At that time, though, I didn't see it this way; I just went on living and cared not much about cultural clashes. Yet, as a result of this conflict, the following song came into existence, which has won me a lot of fans in the town, especially among the more witty and self-ironical inhabitants.

Alemannic

German

Wahlwiis! Oh, oh, oh, Wahlwiis!
És isch en Gruus,
Allhéck wider mosi z'ruck zu diir,
Susch halt is òefach it uus.

Wênni dênn mòl z'Schtocke bi,
Nò bliibi dért vilicht e halbi Schtund,
Nò wird's mer z'mòl ganz andersch,
Und nò, nò kênni au de Grund:

Ii wär so gêrn z'
Wahlwiis! Oh, oh, oh, Wahlwiis!
Miir lòht's kò Rue,
Wêil din Béck und dini Épfl,
Die g'héred halt zu miir dezue.

D'Lozis und di Gräene,
Sind au nu e Pack,
Dò kéntsch doch grad driischlaa,
Heilandzack!
Aber mòn, dêne Sidiane, dêne wird's
Kêlbli au no bläre!
Bi Naat und Nêbel
Wérine ufd Kirbi kumme, nò isch aber
Matthäi am Létschte und d'Axt am Bòm,
Sell sag ii!

Ja so schwätzt mer z'
Wahlwiis! Oh, oh, oh, Wahlwiis!
És hät kòn Zwêck,
Allhéck wider mosi z'ruck zu diir,
Nò kaufi e Wéckle bim Béck.

Oh, oh, oh, Wahlwiis!

Wahlwies! Oh, oh, oh, Wahlwies!
Es ist ein Graus,
Immer wieder muss ich zurück zu dir,
Sonst halte ich es einfach nicht aus.

Wenn ich einmal in Stockach bin,
Und ich bleibe ungefähr eine halbe Stunde dort,
Wird mir auf einmal ganz anders,
Und dann weiß ich auch warum:

Ich wäre so gerne in
Wahlwies! Oh, oh, oh, Wahlwies!
Es läßt mir keine Ruhe,
Denn deine Bäckerei und deine Äpfel,
Gehören einfach zu mir.

Die Lozis und die Grünen
Sind auch so ein Pack,
Da könnte man doch grad dreinschlagen,
Heilandsakrament!
Aber warte, die Lumpen werden auch noch
Ihr blaues Wunder erleben!
Bei Nacht und Nebel werde ich ihnen aufs
Dach steigen, und dann ist aber alles zu spät
und die Sache erledigt!
Das sage ich!

Ja so spricht man in
Wahlwies! Oh, oh, oh, Wahlwies!
Es hat keinen Zweck,
Immer wieder muss ich zurück zu dir,
Dann kaufe ich ein Brötchen in der Bäckerei.

Oh, oh, oh, Wahlwies!

English

Wahlwies, oh,oh, oh, Wahlwies!
It's a pity,
I always have to get back to you,
Otherwise I just couldn't stand it.

When I'm in Stockach once in a while,
And I stay there for about half an hour,
Then I get a queer feeling,
And I know the reason why:

I'd like to be in
Wahlwies, oh, oh, oh, Wahlwies!
I'd have no rest,
Because your bakery and your apples
Simply belong to me.

The Lozis and the Green [Party],
Are just a scum,
You could really beat them up,
Goddamit!
But wait, the calf will cry by moonshine to those rascals, in a foggy night I shall come over them on the church celebration. Then St Matthew's is on the last and the axe at the tree.*
That's what I say!

Yes, so say folks in
Wahlwies, oh,oh, oh, Wahlwies!
It's of no use,
Every now and then I have to get back to you,
Then I buy a bun in the bakery.

Oh,oh, oh, Wahlwies!

*) These are more or less incomprehensible threats very difficult to translate. This translation is based on an attempt by Helge Breitsprecher.

Wahlwies song: Text © Leo Meyer.
Music copied from Hubert von Goisern, who himself copied it from somebody else (Ray Charles, said Stefan Bartwal). Originally called "Georgia On My Mind" by Irving Berlin. Others claim it was composed by Hoagy Carmichael; there seems to be some confusion around this matter.

More things can and must definitely be said about Wahlwies. I will continue this page when I have a little more leisure and material.