Yiddish. (For some reason that last word of the three looks better with a ‘sh’ rather than a ‘sch’, maybe because the ‘sh’ sound indicates it isn’t emphasized as much as ‘sch’.) My grandparents (native English speakers) on my father’s side speak it a little, so I picked up some words and phrases. I believe their parents spoke it and they decided to learn enough to communicate; when I was little, they would speak it around my siblings and I when they didn’t want us to understand something. But it was always a pidgin Yiddish, with English words thrown in as necessary to expand the vocabulary. Generally if I asked my grandparents would explain what they had said (it wasn’t a top secret code, just for side conversations that didn’t involve the kids), and so I learned a few words that way. Nothing near what it would take to be able to speak, though. The language has plenty of colorful phrases, particularly curses: one I remember is, “may all your teeth fall out except one, and in that one you should have a toothache” (which I never actually knew how to say in Yiddish, but with a curse like that, who cares how it originally sounded). There were some phrases my grandma taught us also and which we repeated with great delight, such as “hock me nish ken chynick” (literally, “stop banging my teakettle”, or “stop bothering me”) or she’d say “haltzachein” (“hold your horses”).