I have been reading, for the last several years weeks, a biography of James J. Hill, the railroad magnate. It's for research and to be honest the book itself is rather a slog, but there is the occasional gem. Today's diamond in the blather, a Swedish dialect poem written about "Yem" Hill around the turn of the century. Truly, 'tis a thing of wonder and beauty:

We got little faller har,
Name ban Yem;
Das whole railroad over dar
Blong to him . . .

Fallers laugh ven he come har,
Das man Yem;
But he ain't ban fraid for scare,
Not for hem.
Call das railroad strak o' rust
An say Yem vill go clean bust;
But he keep still and he yust
Vork for Yem.

Val, Ay tal you Ay don laugh,
Ay explode
Van his inyine kal my calf
On das road . . .
An he wrote me letter, too,
An say: "Ole, Ay lak you,
An how much you tenk ban due
On das calf?"

Val, Ay got my gude hard mun
From das Yem,
An Ay lat das railroad run
Yust for hem;
An Ay tenk das Nortvest har
Yump ahead gude many yar
Yust by not ban fraid for scare,
Me and Yem.