The Peasant in Heaven. Once upon a time a poor pious peasant died, and arrived before the gate of heaven. At the same time a very rich, rich lord came there who also wanted to get into heaven. Then Saint Peter came with the key, and opened the door, and let the great man in, but apparently did not see the peasant, and shut the door again. And now the peasant outside heard how the great man was received in heaven with all kinds of rejoicing, and how they were making music, and singing within. At length all became quiet again, and Saint Peter came and opened the gate of heaven, and let the peasant in. The peasant, however, expected that they would make music and sing when he went in also, but all remained quite quiet. He was received with great affection, it is true, and the angels came to meet him, but no one sang. Then the peasant asked Saint Peter how it was that they did not sing for him as they had done when the rich man went in, and said that it seemed to him that there in heaven things were done with just as much partiality as on earth. Then said Saint Peter, by no means, you are just as dear to us as anyone else, and will enjoy every heavenly delight that the rich man enjoys, but poor fellows like you come to heaven every day, but a rich man like this does not come more than once in a hundred years.

Das Bürle im Himmel S isch emol es arms fromms Bürle gstorbe, und chunt do vor d' Himmelspforte. Zur gliche Zit isch au e riche riche Herr do gsi und het au i Himmel welle. Do chunt der heilige Petrus mitem Schlüssel und macht uf und lot der Herr ine; das Bürle het er aber, wies schint, nid gseh und macht d' Pforte ämel wieder zue. Do het das Bürle vorusse ghört, wie de Herr mit alle Freude im Himmel uf gno worde isch, und wie se drin inusiziert und gsunge händ. Ändle isch es do wider still worde, und der heilig Petrus chunt, macht d' Himmelspforte uf un lot das Bürle au ine. S Bürle het do gmeint, s werd jetzt au musiziert und gsunge, wenn es chöm, aber do isch alles still gsi; me hets frile mit aller Liebe ufgno, und d' Ängele sind em egäge cho, aber gsunge het niemer (niemand). Do frogt das Bürle der heilig Petrus, worum das me be im nid singe wie be dem riche Herr, s geu, schints, do im Himmel au parteiisch zue wie uf der Erde. Do säit der heilig Petrus 'nai wäger, du bisch is so lieb wie alle andere und muesch alle himmlische Freude gniesse wie de rich Herr, aber lueg, so arme Bürle, wie du äis bisch, chömme alle Tage e Himmel, so ne riche Herr aber chunt nume alle hundert Johr öppe äine.'