Hop Harvest In The Olden Days


Automation in hop harvesting just took place in the late 50´s of the 20th century. Before that, all the work had to be done by hand, that means a hop farmer with around 30 ooo pieces of hops had between 80-100 harvest helpers working for him. They went out into the fields early in the morning and got back late in the evening. People from all over the country were not only coming to earn some money, but also to get good food and good beer. The annual Hop Harvest Festival in Haunsbach, just 1o km from where I live, shows all that like it has been in the old days. The picked hops got  filled in a bowl that contains exactly 60 ltr.-the socalled “Mäzen”. Controlled by the farmer or a “hop master”, for every “Mäzen” the pickers filled up, they got a tin made coin with the initials of the farmer they were working for. At the end of the harvest they cashed in the coin for food, beer or money. People from Italy and Norway have been to this festival this year and though it´s some sort of tourist attraction, it´s a very good idea to keep up the tradition. The video shows images of that festival and the song is a very traditional one, the “hymn” of the “Hallertau” or “Holledau”, the world largest hop growing area . Songs called: “The Holledauer Lied”. (Click on HD button if you like for a higher resolution). Enjoy!


Song text:

Und wia da Herrgott seiner Zeit,
erschaffa hot die Welt,
hat er am siebten Tag erst g’merkt,
dass do dor no etwas fehlt.
Und was do dro no g’fehlt hobn mog,
dös wiss’ma ganz genau:
Dös is da schönste Fleck da Welt,
die schöne Holledau.

Dann hat er’s hald no einig’stellt
ins hügelige Land.
A Wasserl hat er durchezogn,
die Abends wird’s genannt,
an Himmi hat er drüber g’spannt
so wolkenlos und blau,
ja über unser Hoamatland,
der schönen Holledau.

Dös Holledauer Heiligtum,
Kapelln am Bergl drob’n.
an Schimmi ham’s da drin versteckt
ganz ohne Heu und Stroh.
Da Messner von dem Dörfl drunt
kimmt zur Kapelln net nauf
drum is da Schimmi an Hungertod
g’storbn in da Holledau.

Und wer no nia an Hopfa g’sehgn,
ja, der begreift dös nia,
was dös bloß für a Arbeit macht
bis fertig is des Bier.
Da stehst du da, mei liaba Mo,
da stehst du da und schaugst,
den schönsten Hopfa, s’beste Bier,
hat doch de Holledau.

Und wenn i dann als alter Mo,
ganz ohne Ach und Weh,
vom Hopfagart’n Abschied nimm.
und zu mei’m Hergott geh,
dann sag i zur Maria mein,
oa bitt no, liabe Frau,
lass mi no oamal abischaugn
auf meine Holledau..

( … und wia da Schimmi tot is gwen,
ham’s eahm a Schiwal Heu vorgleg’t
ned dass d’Leid sogn,
zwegs da Not is da Schimmi tot



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