You’ve been speaking Frisian words your entire life and had no idea.
Okay, maybe not pure Frisian words exactly. But here’s the thing: English and Frisian are so closely related that they’ve been swapping vocabulary back and forth for over a thousand years. And some words that made their way into English have Frisian fingerprints all over them.
Let’s start with the obvious suspect: “skipper.”
This nautical term comes directly from the Dutch word “schipper,” which itself has deep Frisian roots. The Frisians were master sailors and traders who dominated the North Sea for centuries. When you needed someone to captain your ship, you hired a Frisian skipper. The word stuck around long after Frisian sea power faded.
Then there’s “freight.”
This word for cargo came into English from Middle Dutch “vrecht,” but the Frisians were using “frach” to describe shipped goods way back when. Since Frisian merchants were everywhere in medieval Europe, their commercial vocabulary spread like wildfire. If you ordered freight, you were probably dealing with Frisian traders.
Here’s a weird one: “booze.”
Yep, your favorite word for alcohol has Low German and possibly Frisian origins. The Middle Dutch “būsen” meant “to drink heavily,” and Frisian sailors were known for their drinking culture. The word sailed into English through maritime trade routes, which the Frisians basically owned for a while.
“Scoop” is another one.
This comes from Middle Dutch “schope,” but the Frisian “skoppe” (meaning a bucket or ladle) was right there in the mix. When you’re bailing water out of a boat or scooping grain at a trading post, you’re using Frisian technology and Frisian vocabulary.
Now let’s talk about “trek.”
This word for a long difficult journey came through Afrikaans from Dutch “trekken,” but the Frisian “trekke” is practically identical. Frisian migrants and traders were always trekking somewhere, so it makes sense their word for it would catch on.
“Slop” is surprisingly Frisian too.
The word for spilled liquid or loose clothing comes from Middle Low German, but Frisian “sloppe” was part of that linguistic soup. Given how much time Frisians spent on wet boats wearing loose waterproof gear, they had plenty of reasons to need this word.
Here’s where it gets tricky though.
Linguists can’t always tell if a word came specifically from Frisian or from its close cousins like Old Saxon or Old Dutch. These languages were so similar that merchants and sailors probably code-switched constantly. A Frisian trader in London might use whatever word his English customer understood best.
But we know Frisian influence was massive.
The Frisians controlled trade in the North Sea from roughly 600 to 1000 CE. They had settlements in England, trading posts across Europe, and a reputation for being the people you called when you needed something shipped. Their language was everywhere their boats went.
Some linguists argue that Frisian influenced English grammar too, not just vocabulary. The way English lost most of its case endings might have happened partly because English speakers were constantly talking to Frisian traders who spoke a similarly simplified Germanic language.
The funny part? Most English speakers have never even heard of Frisian.
But they’re using Frisian-influenced words every day. When you talk about skippers and freight and scoops, you’re channeling centuries of Frisian maritime culture without knowing it.
Modern Frisian still shares tons of vocabulary with English. Words like “boat” (Frisian: boat), “dream” (Frisian: dream), and “rain” (Frisian: rein) are basically identical. The languages grew up as siblings, borrowed from each other constantly, and still look remarkably similar today.
So next time you use the word “skipper” or talk about “freight,” remember: you’re speaking a little bit of Frisian.
A language that most people have never heard of has been hiding in English all along, smuggled in by sailors and traders who ruled the waves a thousand years ago. That’s pretty cool when you think about it.
