Chapter X: Gipsies in Egypt (2)

Yeckorus a choro Rommany chal dicked a rani hatch taller the wuder of a boro ker an' mukked adovo a bitti lil. Then he putched the rakli, when the rani jessed avree, what the lil kaired. Adoi the rakli pukkered lesco it was for her rani ta jin kun'd welled a dick her. "Avali!" penned the Rommany chal; "_that's_ the way the Gorgios mukks their patteran! _We_ mukks char apre the drum."

The grai mukks his pirro apre the drum, an' the sap kairs his trail adree the puv.

TRANSLATION.

Once a poor Gipsy saw a lady stop before the door of a great house and left there a card (little letter). Then he asked the girl, when the lady went away, what the card meant (literally, _did_). Then (there) the girl told him it was for her lady to know who had come to see her. "Yes!" said the Gipsy; "so that is the way the Gorgios leave their sign! _We_ leave grass on the road."

The horse leaves his track on the road, and the snake makes his trail in the dust.

GUDLO XXV. THE GIPSY IN THE FOREST.

When I was beshin' alay adree the wesh tale the bori rukkas, mandy putched a tikno chillico to latch mandy a bitti moro, but it jalled avree an' I never dicked it kekoomi. Adoi I putched a boro chillico to latch mandy a curro o' tatti panni, but it jalled avree paul' the waver. Mandy never putchered the rukk parl my sherro for kek, but when the bavol welled it wussered a lay to mandy a hundred ripe kori.

TRANSLATION.

When I was sitting down in the forest under the great trees, I asked a little bird to bring (find) me a little bread, but it went away and I never saw it again. Then I asked a great bird to bring me a cup of brandy, but it flew away after the other. I never asked the tree over my head for anything, but when the wind came it threw down to me a hundred ripe nuts.

GUDLO XXVI. THE GIPSY FIDDLER AND THE YOUNG LADY.

Yeckorus a tano mush was kellin' kushto pre the boshomengro, an' a kushti dickin rani pookered him, "Tute's killaben is as sano as best-tood." And he rakkered ajaw, "Tute's mui's gudlo sar pishom, an' I'd cammoben to puraben mi tood for tute's pishom."

Kushto pash kushto kairs ferridearer.

TRANSLATION.

Once a young man was playing well upon the violin, and a beautiful lady told him, "Your playing is as soft as cream." And he answered, "Your mouth (_i.e_., lips or words) is sweet as honey, and I would like to exchange my cream for your honey."

Good with good makes better.

GUDLO XXVII. HOW THE GIPSY DANCED A HOLE THROUGH A STONE.

Yeckorus some plochto Rommany chals an' juvas were kellin' the pash-divvus by dood tall' a boro ker, and yeck penned the waver, "I'd be cammoben if dovo ker was mandy's." And the rye o' the ker, kun sus dickin' the kellaben, rakkered, "When tute kells a hev muscro the bar you're hatchin' apre, mandy'll del tute the ker." Adoi the Rom tarried the bar apre, an' dicked it was hollow tale, and sar a curro 'pre the waver rikk. So he lelled dui sastern chokkas and kelled sar the ratti 'pre the bar, kairin' such a gudlo you could shoon him a mee avree; an' adree the sala he had kaired a hev adree the bar as boro as lesters sherro. So the barvelo rye del him the fino ker, and sar the mushis got matto, hallauter kettenus.

Many a cheirus I've shooned my puri dye pen that a bar with a hev adree it kairs kammoben.

TRANSLATION.

Once some jolly Gipsy men and girls were dancing in the evening by moonlight before a great house, and one said to the other, "I'd be glad if that house was mine." And the gentleman of the house, who was looking at the dancing, said, "When you dance a hole through (in the centre of) the stone you are standing on, I'll give you the house." Then the Gipsy pulled the stone up, and saw it was hollow underneath, and like a cup on the other side. So he took two iron shoes and danced all night on the stone, making such a noise you could hear him a mile off; and in the morning he had made a hole in the stone as large as his head. So the rich gentleman gave him the fine house, and all the people got drunk, all together.

Many a time I've heard my old mother say that a stone with a hole in it brings luck.

GUDLO XXVIII. STORY OF THE GENTLEMAN AND THE GIPSY.

Yeckorus a boro rye wouldn't mukk a choro, pauvero, chovveny Rommany chal hatch odoi 'pre his farm. So the Rommany chal jalled on a puv apre the waver rikk o' the drum, anerjal the ryas beshaben. And dovo ratti the ryas ker pelled alay; kek kash of it hatched apre, only the foki that loddered adoi hullered their kokeros avree ma their miraben. And the ryas tikno chavo would a-mullered if a Rommany juva had not lelled it avree their pauveri bitti tan.

An' dovo's sar _tacho like my dad_, an' to the divvus kenna they pens that puv the Rommany Puv.

TRANSLATION.

Once a great gentleman would not let a poor, poor, poor Gipsy stay on his farm. So the Gipsy went to a field on the other side of the way, opposite the gentleman's residence. And that night the gentleman's house fell down; not a stick of it remained standing, only the people who lodged there carried themselves out (_i.e_., escaped) with their lives. And the gentleman's little babe would have died if a Gipsy woman had not taken it into their poor little tent.

And that's all _true as my father_, and to this day they call that field the Gipsy Field.

GUDLO XXIX. HOW THE GIPSY WENT INTO THE WATER.

Yeck divvus a prastramengro prastered pauli a Rommany chal, an' the chal jalled adree the panni, that was pordo o' boro bittis o' floatin' shill, and there he hatched pall his men with only his sherro avree. "Hav avree," shelled a rye that was wafro in his see for the pooro rnush, "an' we'll mukk you jal!" "Kek," penned the Rom; "I shan't jal." "Well avree," penned the rye ajaw, "an' I'll del tute pange bar!" "_Kek_," rakkered the Rom. "Jal avree," shokkered the rye, "an' I'll del tute pange bar an' a nevvi chukko!" "Will you del mandy a walin o' tatto panni too?" putched the Rommany chal. "Avail, avail," penned the rye; "but for Duveleste hav' avree the panni!" "Kushto," penned the Rommany chal, "for cammoben to tute, rya, I'll jal avree!" {235}

TRANSLATION.

Once a policeman chased a Gipsy, and the Gipsy ran into the river, that was full of great pieces of floating ice, and there he stood up to his neck with only his head out. "Come out," cried a gentleman that pitied the poor man, "and we'll let you go!" "No," said the Gipsy; "I won't move." "Come out," said the gentleman again, "and I'll give you five pounds!" "No," said the Gipsy. "Come out," cried the gentleman, "and I'll give you five pounds and a new coat!" "Will you give me a glass of brandy too?" asked the Gipsy. "Yes, yes," said the gentleman; "but for God's sake come out of the water!" "Well," exclaimed the Gipsy, "to oblige you, sir, I'll come out!"

GUDLO XXX. THE GIPSY AND HIS TWO MASTERS.

"Savo's tute's rye?" putched a ryas mush of a Rommany chal. "I've dui ryas," pooked the Rommany chal: "Duvel's the yeck an' beng's the waver. Mandy kairs booti for the beng till I've lelled my yeckora habben, an' pallers mi Duvel pauli ajaw."

TRANSLATION.

"Who is your master?" asked a gentleman's servant of a Gipsy. "I've two masters," said the Gipsy: "God is the one, and the devil is the other. I work for the devil till I have got my dinner (one-o'clock food), and after that follow the Lord."

GUDLO XXXI. THE LITTLE GIPSY BOY AT THE SILVERSMITH'S.

A bitti chavo jalled adree the boro gav pash his dadas, an' they hatched taller the hev of a ruppenomengro's buddika sar pordo o' kushti-dickin covvas. "O dadas," shelled the tikno chavo, "what a boro choromengro dovo mush must be to a' lelled so boot adusta rooys an' horas!"

A tacho covva often dicks sar a hokkeny (huckeny) covva; an dovo's sim of a tacho mush, but a juva often dicks tacho when she isn't.

TRANSLATION.

A little boy went to the great village (_i.e_., London) with his father, and they stopped before the window of a silversmith's shop all full of pretty things. "O father," cried the small boy, "what a great thief that man must be to have got so many spoons and watches!"

A true thing often looks like a false one; and the same is true (and that's _same_) of a true man, but a girl often looks right when she is not.

GUDLO XXXII. THE GIPSY'S DREAM.

Mandy sutto'd I was pirraben lang o' tute, an' I dicked mandy's pen odoi 'pre the choomber. Then I was pirryin' ajaw parl the puvius, an' I welled to the panni paul' the Beng's Choomber, an' adoi I dicked some ranis, saw nango barrin' a pauno plachta 'pre lengis sherros, adree the panni pash their bukkos. An' I pookered lengis, "Mi-ranis, I putch tute's cammoben; I didn't jin tute sus acai." But yeck pre the wavers penned mandy boot kushti cammoben, "Chichi, mor dukker your-kokero; we just welled alay acai from the ker to lel a bitti bath." An' she savvy'd sa kushto, but they all jalled avree glan mandy sar the bavol, an' tute was hatchin' pash a maudy sar the cheirus.

So it pens, "when you dick ranis sar dovo, you'll muller kushto." Well, if it's to be akovo, I kaum it'll be a booti cheirus a-wellin.' Tacho!

TRANSLATION.

I dreamed I was walking with you, and I saw my sister (a fortune-teller) there upon the hill. Then I (found myself) walking again over the field, and I came to the water near the Devil's Dyke, and there I saw some ladies, quite naked excepting a white cloth on their heads, in the water to the waists. And I said to them, "Ladies, I beg your pardon; I did not know you were here." But one among the rest said to me very kindly, "No matter, don't trouble yourself; we just came down here from the house to take a little bath." And she smiled sweetly, but they all vanished before me like the cloud (wind), and you were standing by me all the time.

So it means, "_when you see ladies like that, you will die happily_." Well, if it's to be that, I hope it will be a long time coming. Yes, indeed.

GUDLO XXXIII. OF THE GIRL AND HER LOVER.

Yeckorus, boot hundred beshes the divvus acai, a juva was wellin' to chore a yora. "Mukk mandy hatch," penned the yora, "an' I'll sikker tute ki tute can lel a tikno pappni." So the juva lelled the tikno pappni, and it pookered laki, "Mukk mandy jal an' I'll sikker tute ki tute can chore a bori kani." Then she chored the bori kani, an' it shelled avree, "Mukk mandy jal an' I'll sikker tute ki you can loure a rani-chillico." And when she lelled the rani-chillico, it penned, "Mukk mandy jal an' I'll sikker tute odoi ki tute can lel a guruvni's tikno." So she lelled the guruvni's tikno, an' it shokkered and ruvved, an' rakkered, "Mukk mandy jal an' I'll sikker tute where to lel a fino grai." An' when she loured the grai, it penned laki, "Mukk mandy jal an' I'll rikker tute to a kushto-dick barvelo rye who kaums a pirreny." So she lelled the kushto tauno rye, an' she jivved with lester kushto yeck cooricus; but pash dovo he pookered her to jal avree, he didn't kaum her kekoomi. "Sa a wafro mush is tute," ruvved the rakli, "to bitcher mandy avree! For tute's cammoben I delled avree a yora, a tikno pappni, a boro kani, a rani-chillico, a guruvni's tikno, an' a fino grai." "Is dovo tacho?" putched the raklo. "'Pre my mullo dadas!" sovahalled the rakli," I del 'em sar apre for tute, yeck paul the waver, an' kenna tu bitchers mandy avree!" "So 'p mi-Duvel!" penned the rye, "if tute nashered sar booti covvas for mandy, I'll rummer tute." So they were rummobend.

Avali, there's huckeny (hokkeny) tachobens and tacho huckabens. You can sovahall pre the lil adovo.

TRANSLATION.

Once, many hundred years ago (to-day now), a girl was going to steal an egg. "Let me be," said the egg, "and I will show you where you can get a duck." So the girl got the duck, and it said (told) to her, "Let me go and I will show you where you can get a goose" (large hen). Then she stole the goose, and it cried out, "Let me go and I'll show you where you can steal a turkey" (lady-bird). And when she took the turkey, it said, "Let me go and I'll show you where you can get a calf." So she got the calf, and it bawled and wept, and cried, "Let me go and I'll show you where to get a fine horse." And when she stole the horse, it said to her, "Let me go and I'll carry you to a handsome, rich gentleman who wants a sweetheart." So she got the nice young gentleman, and lived with him pleasantly one week; but then he told her to go away, he did not want her any more. "What a bad man you are," wept the girl, "to send me away! For your sake I gave away an egg, a duck, a goose, a turkey, a calf, and a fine horse." "Is that true?" asked the youth. "By my dead father!" swore the girl, "I gave them all up for you, one after the other, and now you send me away!" "So help me God!" said the gentleman, "if you lost so many things for me, I'll marry you." So they were married.

Yes, there are false truths and true lies. You may kiss the book on _that_.

GUDLO XXXIV. THE GIPSY TELLS OF WILL-O'-THE-WISP.

Does mandy jin the lav adree Rommanis for a Jack-o'-lantern--the dood that prasters, and hatches, an' kells o' the ratti, parl the panni, adree the puvs? _Avali_; some pens 'em the Momeli Mullos, and some the Bitti Mullos. They're bitti geeros who rikker tute adree the gogemars, an' sikker tute a dood till you're all jalled apre a wafro drum an nashered, an' odoi they chiv their kokeros pauli an' savs at tute. Mandy's dicked their doods adusta cheiruses, an' kekoomi; but my pal dicked langis muis pash mungwe yeck ratti. He was jallin' langus an' dicked their doods, and jinned it was the yag of lesters tan. So he pallered 'em, an' they tadered him dukker the drum, parl the bors, weshes, puvius, gogemars, till they lelled him adree the panni, an then savvy'd avree. And odoi he dicked lender pre the waver rikk, ma lesters kokerus yakkis, an' they were bitti mushis, bitti chovihanis, about dui peeras boro. An' my pal was bengis hunnalo, an' sovahalled pal' lengis, "If I lelled you acai, you ratfolly juckos! if I nashered you, I'd chin tutes curros!" An' he jalled to tan ajaw an' pookered mandy saw dovo 'pre dovo rat. "Kun sus adovo?" Avali, rya; dovo was pash Kaulo Panni--near Blackwater.

TRANSLATION.

Do I know the word in Rommanis for a Jack-o'-lantern--the light that runs, and stops, and dances by night, over the water, in the fields? Yes; some call them the Light Ghosts, and some the Little Ghosts. They're little men who lead you into the waste and swampy places, and show you a light until you have gone astray and are lost, and then they turn themselves around and laugh at you. I have seen their lights many a time, and nothing more; but my brother saw their faces close and opposite to him (directly _vis-a-vis_) one night. He was going along and saw their lights, and thought it was the fire of his tent. So he followed them, and they drew him from the road over hedges, woods, fields, and lonely marshes till they got him in the water, and then laughed out loud. And there he saw them with his own eyes, on the opposite side, and they were little fellows, little goblins, about two feet high. And my brother was devilish angry, and swore at them! "If I had you here, you wretched dogs! if I caught you, I'd cut your throats!" And he went home and told me all that that night. "_Where was it_?" Yes, sir; that was near Blackwater.

GUDLO XXXV. THE GIPSY EXPLAINS WHY THE FLOUNDER HAS HIS MOUTH ON ONE SIDE.

Yeckorus sar the matchis jalled an' suvved kettenescrus 'dree the panni. And yeck penned as yuv was a boro mush, an' the waver rakkered ajaw sa yuv was a borodiro mush, and sar pookered sigan ket'nus how lengis were borodirer mushis. Adoi the flounder shelled avree for his meriben "Mandy's the krallis of you sar!" an' he shelled so surrelo he kaired his mui bongo, all o' yeck rikkorus. So to akovo divvus acai he's penned the Krallis o' the Matchis, and rikkers his mui bongo sar o' yeck sidus.

Mushis shouldn't shell too shunaben apre lengis kokeros.

TRANSLATION.

Once all the fish came and swam together in the water. And one said that he was a great person, and the other declared that he was a greater person, and (at last) all cried out at once what great characters (men) they all were. Then the flounder shouted for his life, "I'm the king of you all!" and he roared so violently he twisted his mouth all to one side. So to this day he is called the King of the Fishes, and bears his face crooked all on one side.

Men should not boast too loudly of themselves.

GUDLO XXXVI. A GIPSY ACCOUNT OF THE TRUE ORIGIN OF THE FISH CALLED OLD MAIDS OR YOUNG MAIDS.

Yeckorus kushti-dickin raklos were suvvin' 'dree the lun panni, and there welled odoi some plochti raklis an' juvas who pooked the tano ryas to hav' avree an' choomer 'em. But the raklos wouldn't well avree, so the ranis rikkered their rivabens avree an' pirried adree the panni paul' lendy. An' the ryas who were kandered alay, suvved andurer 'dree the panni, an' the ranis pallered 'em far avree till they were saw latchered, raklos and raklis. So the tauno ryas were purabened into Barini Mushi Matchis because they were too ladge (latcho) of the ranis that kaumed 'em, and the ranis were kaired adree Puri Rani Matchis and Tani Rani Matchis because they were too tatti an' ruzli.

Raklos shouldn't be too ladge, nor raklis be too boro of their kokeros.

TRANSLATION.

Once some handsome youths were swimming in the sea, and there came some wanton women and girls who told the young men to come out and kiss them. But the youths would not come out, so the ladies stripped themselves and ran into the water after them. And the gentles who were driven away swam further into the water, and the ladies followed them far away till all were lost, boys and girls. So the young men were changed into Codfish because they were too shy of the girls that loved them, and the ladies were turned into Old Maids and Young Maids because they were too wanton and bold.

Men should not be too modest, nor girls too forward.

GUDLO XXXVII. HOW LORD COVENTRY LEAPED THE GIPSY TENT. A TRUE STORY.

I dicked Lord Coventry at the Worcester races. He kistured lester noko grai adree the steeple-chase for the ruppeny--kek,--a sonnakai tank I think it was,--but he nashered. It was dovo tano rye that yeck divvus in his noko park dicked a Rommany chal's tan pash the rikk of a bor; and at yeck leap he kistered apre the bor, and jalled right atut an' parl the Rommany chal's tan. "Ha, kun's acai?" he shelled, as he dicked the tikno kaulos; "a Rommany chal's tan!" And from dovo divvus he mukked akovo Rom hatch his cammoben 'pre his puv. Tacho.

Ruzlo mushis has boro sees.

TRANSLATION.

I saw Lord Coventry at the Worcester races. He rode his own horse in the steeple-chase for the silver--no, it was a gold tankard, I think, but he lost.

It was that young gentleman who one day in his own park saw a Gipsy tent by the side of a hedge, and took a flying leap over tent, hedge, and all. "Ha, what's here?" he cried, as he saw the little brown children; "a Gipsy's tent!" And from that day he let that Gipsy stay as much as he pleased on his land.

Bold men have generous hearts.

GUDLO XXXVIII. OF MR BARTLETT'S LEAP.

Dovo's sim to what they pens of Mr Bartlett in Glo'stershire, who had a fino tem pash Glo'ster an' Bristol, where he jivved adree a boro ker. Kek mush never dicked so booti weshni juckalos or weshni kannis as yuv rikkered odoi. They prastered atut saw the drumyas sim as kanyas. Yeck divvus he was kisterin' on a kushto grai, an' he dicked a Rommany chal rikkerin' a truss of gib-puss 'pre lester dumo pral a bitti drum, an' kistered 'pre the pooro mush, puss an' sar. I jins that puro mush better 'n I jins tute, for I was a'ter yeck o' his raklis yeckorus; he had kushti-dick raklis, an' he was old Knight Locke. "Puro," pens the rye, "did I kair you trash?" "I mang tute's shunaben, rya," pens Locke pauli; "I didn't jin tute sus wellin'!" So puro Locke hatched odoi 'pre dovo tem sar his miraben, an' that was a kushti covva for the puro Locke.

TRANSLATION.

That is like what is told of Mr Bartlett in Gloucestershire, who had a fine place near Gloucester and Bristol, where he lived in a great house. No man ever saw so many foxes or pheasants as he kept there. They ran across all the paths like hens. One day he was riding on a fine horse, when he saw a Gipsy carrying a truss of wheat-straw on his back up a little path, and leaped over the poor man, straw and all. I knew that old man better than I know you, for I was after one of his daughters then; he had beautiful girls, and he was old Knight Locke. "Old fellow," said the gentleman, "did I frighten you?" "I beg your pardon, sir," said Locke after him; "I didn't know you were coming!" So old Locke stayed on that land all his life, and that was a good thing for old Locke.

GUDLO XXXIX. THE GIPSY, THE PIG, AND THE MUSTARD.

Yeckorus a Rommany chal jalled to a boro givescroker sa's the rye sus hawin'. And sikk's the Rom wan't a-dickin', the rye all-sido pordered a kell-mallico pash kris, an' del it to the Rommany chal. An' sa's the kris dantered adree his gullo, he was pash tassered, an' the panni welled in his yakkas. Putched the rye, "Kun's tute ruvvin' ajaw for?" An' he rakkered pauli, "The kris lelled mandys bavol ajaw." Penned the rye, "I kaum the kris'll del tute kushti bak." "Parraco, rya," penned the Rom pauli; "I'll kommer it kairs dovo." Sikk's the rye bitchered his sherro, the Rommany chal loured the krissko-curro ma the ruppeny rooy, an' kek dicked it. The waver divvus anpauli, dovo Rom jalled to the ryas baulo- tan, an' dicked odoi a boro rikkeno baulo, an' gillied, "I'll dick acai if I can kair tute ruv a bitti."

Now, rya, you must jin if you del a baulor kris adree a pabo, he can't shell avree or kair a gudlo for his miraben, an' you can rikker him bissin', or chiv him apre a wardo, an' jal andurer an' kek jin it. An' dovo's what the Rommany chal kaired to the baulor, pash the sim kris; an' as he bissered it avree an' pakkered it adree a gunno, he penned shukkar adree the baulor's kan, "Calico tute's rye hatched my bavol, an' the divvus I've hatched tute's; an' yeckorus your rye kaumed the kris would del mandy kushti bak, and kenna it _has_ del mengy kushtier bak than ever he jinned.

Ryes must be sig not to kair pyass an' trickis atop o' choro mushis.

TRANSLATION.

Once a Gipsy went to a great farmhouse as the gentleman sat at table eating. And so soon as the Gipsy looked away, the gentleman very quietly filled a cheese-cake with mustard and gave it to the Gipsy. When the mustard bit in his throat, he was half choked, and the tears came into his eyes. The gentleman asked him, "What are you weeping for now?" And he replied, "The mustard took my breath away." The gentleman said, "I hope the mustard will give you good luck!" "Thank you, sir," answered the Gipsy; "I'll take care it does" (that). As soon as the gentleman turned his head, the Gipsy stole the mustard-pot with the silver spoon, and no one saw it. The next day after, that Gipsy went to the gentleman's pig-pen, and saw there a great fine-looking pig, and sang, "I'll see now if I can make _you_ weep a bit."

Now, sir, you must know that if you give a pig mustard in an apple, he can't cry out or squeal for his life, and you can carry him away, or throw him on a waggon, and get away, and nobody will know it. And that is what the Gipsy did to the pig, with the same mustard; and as he ran it away and put it in a bag, he whispered softly into the pig's ear, "Yesterday your master stopped my breath, and to-day I've stopped yours; and once your master hoped the mustard would give me good luck, and now it _has_ given me better luck than he ever imagined."

Gentlemen must be careful not to make sport of and play tricks on poor men.

GUDLO XL. EXPLAINING THE ORIGIN OF A CURRENT GIPSY PROVERB OR SAYING.

Trin or shtor beshes pauli kenna yeck o' the Petulengros dicked a boro mullo baulor adree a bitti drum. An' sig as he latched it, some Rommany chals welled alay an' dicked this here Rommany chal. So Petulengro he shelled avree, "A fino baulor! saw tulloben! jal an the sala an' you shall have pash." And they welled apopli adree the sala and lelled pash sar tacho. And ever sense dovo divvus it's a rakkerben o' the Rommany chals, "Sar tulloben; jal an the sala an' tute shall lel your pash."

TRANSLATION.

Three or four years ago one of the Smiths found a great dead pig in a lane. And just as he found it, some Gipsies came by and saw this Rommany. So Smith bawled out to them, "A fine pig! all fat! come in the morning and you shall have half." And they returned in the morning and got half, all right. And ever since it has been a saying with the Gipsies, "It's _all fat_; come in the morning and get your half."

GUDLO XLI. THE GIPSY'S FISH-HOOK.

Yeckorus a rye pookered a Rommany chal he might jal matchyin' 'dree his panni, and he'd del lester the cammoben for trin mushi, if he'd only matchy with a bongo sivv an' a punsy-ran. So the Rom jalled with India- drab kaired apre moro, an' he drabbered saw the matchas adree the panni, and rikkered avree his wardo sar pordo. A boro cheirus pauli dovo, the rye dicked the Rommany chal, an' penned, "You choramengro, did tute lel the matchas avree my panni with a hook?" "Ayali, rya, with a hook," penned the Rom pale, werry sido. "And what kind of a hook?" "Rya," rakkered the Rom, "it was yeck o' the longi kind, what we pens in amandis jib a hookaben" (_i.e_., huckaben or hoc'aben).

When you del a mush cammoben to lel matchyas avree tute's panni, you'd better hatch adoi an' dick how he kairs it.

TRANSLATION.

Once a gentleman told a Gipsy he might fish in his pond, and he would give him permission to do so for a shilling, but that he must only fish with a hook and a fishing-pole (literally, crooked needle). So the Gipsy went with India-drab (juice of the berries of _Indicus cocculus_) made up with bread, and poisoned all the fish in the pond, and carried away his waggonful. A long time after, the gentleman met the Gipsy, and said, "You thief, did you catch the fish in my pond with a hook?" "Yes, sir, with a hook," replied the Gipsy very quietly. "And what kind of a hook?" "Sir," said the Gipsy, "it was one of the long kind, what we call in our language a hookaben" (_i.e_., _a lie or trick_).

When you give a man leave to fish in your pond, you had better be present and see how he does it.

GUDLO XLII. THE GIPSY AND THE SNAKE.

If you more the first sappa you dicks, tute'll more the first enemy you've got. That's what 'em pens, but I don't jin if it's tacho or nettus. And yeckorus there was a werry wafro mush that was allers a-kairin' wafri covvabens. An' yeck divvus he dicked a sap in the wesh, an' he prastered paller it with a bori churi adree lester waster and chinned her sherro apre. An' then he rakkered to his kokerus, "Now that I've mored the sap, I'll lel the jivaben of my wenomest enemy." And just as he penned dovo lav he delled his pirro atut the danyas of a rukk, an' pet alay and chivved the churi adree his bukko. An' as he was beshin' alay a-mullerin' 'dree the weshes, he penned to his kokerus, "Avali, I dicks kenna that dovo's tacho what they pookers about morin' a sappa; for I never had kek worser ennemis than I've been to mandy's selfus, and what wells of morin' innocen hanimals is kek kushtoben."

TRANSLATION.

If you kill the first snake you see, you'll kill the first (principal) enemy you have. That is what they say, but I don't know whether it is true or not. And once there was a very bad man who was always doing bad deeds. And one day he saw a snake in the forest, and ran after it with a great knife in his hand and cut her head off. And then he said to himself, "Now that I've killed the snake, I'll take the life of my most vindictive (literally, most venomous) enemy." And just as he spoke that word he struck his foot against the roots of a tree, and fell down and drove the knife into his own body (liver or heart). And as he lay dying in the forests, he said to himself, "Yes, I see now that it is true what they told me as to killing a snake; for I never had any worse enemy than I have been to myself, and what comes of killing innocent animals is naught good."

GUDLO XLIII. THE STORY OF THE GIPSY AND THE BULL.

Yeckorus there was a Rommany chal who was a boro koorin' mush, a surrelo mush, a boro-wasteni mush, werry toonery an' hunnalo. An' he penned adusta cheiruses that kek geero an' kek covva 'pre the drumyas couldn't trasher him. But yeck divvus, as yuv was jallin' langs the drum with a waver pal, chunderin' an' hookerin' an' lunterin', an' shorin' his kokero how he could koor the puro bengis' selfus, they shooned a guro a-goorin' an' googerin', an' the first covva they jinned he prastered like divius at 'em, an' these here geeros prastered apre ye rukk, an' the boro koorin' mush that was so flick o' his wasters chury'd first o' saw (sar), an' hatched duri-dirus from the puv pre the limmers. An' he beshed adoi an' dicked ye bullus wusserin' an' chongerin' his trushnees sar aboutus, an' kellin' pre lesters covvas, an' poggerin' to cutengroes saw he lelled for lesters miraben. An' whenever the bavol pudered he was atrash he'd pelt-a-lay 'pre the shinger-ballos of the gooro (guro). An' so they beshed adoi till the sig of the sala, when the mush who dicked a'ter the gruvnis welled a-pirryin' by an' dicked these here chals beshin' like chillicos pre the rukk, an' patched lengis what they were kairin' dovo for. So they pookered him about the bullus, an' he hankered it avree; an' they welled alay an' jalled andurer to the kitchema, for there never was dui mushis in 'covo tem that kaumed a droppi levinor koomi than lender. But pale dovo divvus that trusheni mush never sookered he couldn't be a trashni mush no moreus. Tacho.

TRANSLATION.

Once there was a Gipsy who was a great fighting man, a strong man, a great boxer, very bold and fierce. And he said many a time that no man and no thing on the roads could frighten him. But one day, as he was going along the road with another man (his friend), exaggerating and bragging and boasting, and praising himself that he could beat the old devil himself, they heard a bull bellowing and growling, and the first thing they knew he ran like mad at them; and these men hurried up a tree, and the great fighting man that was so handy with his fists climbed first of all, and got (placed) himself furtherest from the ground on the limbs. And he sat there and saw the bull tossing and throwing his baskets all about, and dancing on his things, and breaking to pieces all he had for his living. And whenever the wind blew he was afraid he would fall on the horns of the bull. And so they sat there till daybreak, when the man who looked after the cows came walking by and saw these fellows sitting like birds on the tree, and asked them what they were doing that for. So they told him about the bull, and he drove it away; and they came down and went on to the alehouse, for there never were two men in this country that wanted a drop of beer more than they. But after that day that thirsty man never boasted he could not be a frightened man. True.

GUDLO XLIV. THE GIPSY AND HIS THREE SWEETHEARTS.

Yeckorus a tano mush kaired his cammoben ta trin juvas kett'nus an' kek o' the trin jinned yuv sus a pirryin' ye waver dui. An 'covo raklo jivved adree a bitti tan pash the rikkorus side o' the boro lun panni, an' yeck ratti sar the chais welled shikri kett'nus a lester, an' kek o' the geeris jinned the wavers san lullerin adoi. So they jalled sar-sigan kett'nus, an' rakkered, "Sarshan!" ta yeck chairus. An' dovo raklo didn't jin what juva kaumed lester ferridirus, or kun yuv kaumed ye ferridirus, so sar the shtor besht-a-lay sum, at the habbenescro, and yuv del len habben an' levinor. Yeck hawed booti, but ye waver dui wouldn't haw kek, yeck pii'd, but ye waver dui wouldn't pi chommany, 'cause they were sar hunnali, and sookeri an' kuried. So the raklo penned lengis, yuv sos atrash if yuv lelled a juva 'at couldn't haw, she wouldn't jiv, so he rummored the rakli that hawed her habben.

All'ers haw sar the habben foki banders apre a tute, an' tute'll jal sikker men dush an' tukli.

TRANSLATION.

Once a young man courted three girls together, and none of the three knew he was courting the two others. And that youth lived in a little place near the side of the great salt water, and one night all the girls came at once together to him, and none of the girls knew the others were coming there. So they went all quick together, and said "Good evening," (sarishan means really "How are you?") at the same time. And that youth did not know which girl liked him best, or whom he loved best; so all the four sat down together at the table, and he gave them food and beer. One ate plenty, but the other two would eat nothing; one drank, but the other two would not drink something, because they were all angry, and grieved, and worried. So the youth told them he was afraid if he took a wife that could not eat, she would not live, so he married the girl that ate her food.

Always eat all the food that people give you (literally share out to you), and you will go readily (securely) through sorrow and trouble.

GUDLO XLV. THE GIPSIES AND THE SMUGGLERS. A TRUE STORY.

Yeckorus, most a hundred besh kenna, when mi dadas sus a chavo, yeck ratti a booti Rommany chals san millerin kettenescrus pash the boro panni, kun sar-sig the graias ankaired a-wickerin an' ludderin an' nuckerin' an kairin a boro gudli, an' the Rommanis shuned a shellin, an' dicked mushis prasterin and lullyin for lenders miraben, sa's seer-dush, avree a boro hev. An' when len san sar jalled lug, the Rommany chals welled adoi an' latched adusta bitti barrels o' tatto-panni, an' fino covvas, for dovo mushis were 'mugglers, and the Roms lelled sar they mukked pali. An' dovo sus a boro covva for the Rommany chals, an' they pii'd sar graias, an' the raklis an' juvas jalled in kushni heezis for booti divvuses. An' dovo sus kerro pash Bo-Peep--a boro puvius adree bori chumures, pash Hastings in Sussex.

When 'mugglers nasher an' Rommany chals latch, there's kek worser cammoben for it.

TRANSLATION.

Once almost a hundred years now, when my father was a boy, one night many Gipsies were going together near the sea, when all at once the horses began whinnying and kicking and neighing, and making a great noise, and the Gipsies heard a crying out, and saw men running and rushing as if in alarm, from a great cave. And when they were all gone away together, the Gipsies went there and found many little barrels of brandy, and valuables, for those men were smugglers, and the Gipsies took all they left behind. And that was a great thing for the Gipsies, and they drank like horses, and the girls and women went in silk clothes for many days. And that was done near Bo-Peep, a great field in the hills, by Hastings in Sussex.

When smugglers lose and Gipsies find, nobody is the worse for it.

FOOTNOTES

{0a} The reason why Gipsy words have been kept unchanged was fully illustrated one day in a Gipsy camp in my hearing, when one man declaring of a certain word that it was only _kennick_ or slang, and not "Rommanis," added, "It can't be Rommanis, because everybody knows it. When a word gets to be known to everybody, it's no longer Rommanis."

{1} Lavengro and the Rommany Rye: London, John Murray.

{5} To these I would add "Zelda's Fortune," now publishing in the _Cornhill Magazine_.

{21} Educated Chinese often exercise themselves in what they call "handsome talkee," or "talkee leeson" (i.e., reason), by sitting down and uttering, by way of assertion and rejoinder, all the learned and wise sentences which they can recall. In their conversation and on their crockery, before every house and behind every counter, the elegant formula makes its appearance, teaching people not merely _how_ to think, but what should be thought, and when.

{24} Probably from the modern Greek [Greek text], the sole of the foot, _i.e_., a track. Panth, a road, Hindustani.

{26} Pott: "Die Zigeuner in Europa and Asien," vol. ii, p. 293.

{30} Two hundred (shel) years growing, two hundred years losing his coat, two hundred years before he dies, and then he loses all his blood and is no longer good.

{32} The words of the Gipsy, as I took them down from his own lips, were as follows:--

"Bawris are kushto habben. You can latcher adusta 'pre the bors. When they're pirraben pauli the puvius, or tale the koshters, they're kek kushti habben. The kushtiest are sovven sar the wen. Lel'em and tove 'em and chiv 'em adree the kavi, with panny an' a bitti lun. The simmun's kushto for the yellow jaundice."

I would remind the reader that in _every instance_ where the original Gipsy language is given, it was written down or _noted_ during conversation, and subsequently written out and read to a Gipsy, by whom it was corrected. And I again beg the reader to remember, that every Rommany phrase is followed by a translation into English.

{33} Dr Pott intimates that _scharos_, a globe, may be identical with _sherro_, a head. When we find, however, that in German Rommany _tscharo_ means goblet, pitcher, vessel, and in fact cup, it seems as if the Gipsy had hit upon the correct derivation.

{34} "Dovos yect o' the covvos that saw foki jins. When you lel a wart 'pre tutes wasters you jal 'pre the drum or 'dree the puvius till you latcher a kaulo bawris--yeck o' the boro kind with kek ker apre him, an' del it apre the caro of a kaulo kosh in the bor, and ear the bawris mullers, yeck divvus pauli the waver for shtar or pange divvuses the wart'll kinner away-us. 'Dusta chairusses I've pukkered dovo to Gorgios, an' Gorgios have kaired it, an' the warts have yuzhered avree their wasters."

{35} Among certain tribes in North America, tobacco is both burned before and smoked "unto" the Great Spirit.

{38} This word palindrome, though Greek, is intelligible to every Gipsy. In both languages it means "back on the road."

{53} The Krallis's Gav, King's Village, a term also applied to Windsor.

{65} Pronounced cuv-vas, like _covers_ without the _r_.

{70} The Lord's Prayer in pure English Gipsy:--

"Moro Dad, savo djives oteh drey o charos, te caumen Gorgio ta Rommanny chal tiro nav, te awel tiro tem, te kairen tiro lav aukko prey puv, sar kairdios oteh drey o charos. Dey men todivvus more divvuskoe moro, ta for dey men pazorrhus tukey sar men for-denna len pazhorrus amande; ma muck te petrenna drey caik temptaciones; ley men abri sor doschder. Tiro se o tem, mi-duvel, tiro o zoozlu vast, tiro sor koskopen drey sor cheros. Avali. Tachipen."

Specimens of old English Gipsy, preserving grammatical forms, may be found in Bright's Hungary (Appendix). London, 1818. I call attention to the fact that all the specimens of the language which I give in this book simply represent _the modern and greatly corrupted_ Rommany of the roads, which has, however, assumed a peculiar form of its own.

{75} In gipsy _chores_ would mean swindles. In America it is applied to small jobs.

{81} Vide chapter x.

{83} This should be _Bengo-tem_ or devil land, but the Gipsy who gave me the word declared it was _bongo_.

{110} In English: "Water is the Great God, and it is Bishnoo or Vishnoo because it falls from God. _Vishnu is then the Great God_?" "Yes; there can be no forced meaning there, can there, sir? Duvel (God) is Duvel all the world over; but correctly speaking, Vishnu is God's blood--I have heard that many times. And the snow is feathers that fall from the angels' wings. And what I said, that Bishnoo is God's Blood is old Gipsy, and known by all our people."

{112} "Simurgh--a fabulous bird, _a griffin_."--_Brice's Hindustani Dictionary_.

{124} Romi in Coptic signifies _a man_.

{127} Since writing the above I have been told that among many Hindus "(good) evening" is the common greeting at any time of the day. And more recently still, meeting a gentleman who during twelve years in India had paid especial attention to all the dialects, I greeted him, as an experiment, with "Sarisham!" He replied, 'Why, that's more elegant than common Hindu--it's Persian!" "Sarisham" is, in fact, still in use in India, as among the Gipsies. And as the latter often corrupt it into _sha'shan_, so the vulgar Hindus call it "shan!" Sarishan means in Gipsy, "How are you?" but its affinity with _sarisham_ is evident.

{133} Miklosich ("Uber die Mundarten de der Zigeuner," Wien, 1872) gives, it is true, 647 Rommany words of Slavonic origin, but many of these are also Hindustani. Moreover, Dr Miklosich treats as Gipsy words numbers of Slavonian words which Gipsies in Slavonian lands have Rommanised, but which are not generally Gipsy.

{171} Fortune-telling.

{189} In Egypt, as in Syria, every child is more or less marked by tattooing. Infants of the first families, even among Christians, are thus stamped.

{206} The Royston rook or crow has a greyish-white back, but is with this exception entirely black.

{209} The peacock and turkey are called lady-birds in Rommany, because, as a Gipsy told me, "they spread out their clothes, and hold up their heads and look fine, and walk proud, like great ladies." I have heard a swan called a pauno rani chillico--a white lady-bird.

{210} To make skewers is a common employment among the poorer English Gipsies.

{213} This rhyme and metre (such as they are) were purely accidental with my narrator; but as they occurred _verb. et lit_., I set them down.

{218} This story is well known to most "travellers." It is also true, the "hero" being a _pash-and-pash_, or half-blood Rommany chal, whose name was told to me.

{219} The reader will find in Lord Lytton's "Harold" mention of an Anglo- Saxon superstition very similar to that embodied in the story of the Seven Whistlers. This story is, however, entirely Gipsy.

{221a} This, which is a common story among the English Gipsies, and told exactly in the words here given, is implicitly believed in by them. Unfortunately, the terrible legends, but too well authenticated, of the persecutions to which their ancestors were subjected, render it very probable that it may have occurred as narrated. When Gipsies were hung and transported merely for _being_ Gipsies, it is not unlikely that a persecution to death may have originated in even such a trifle as the alleged theft of a dish-clout.

{221b} Although they bear it with remarkable _apparent_ indifference, Gipsies are in reality extremely susceptible to being looked at or laughed at.

{235} This story was told me in a Gipsy tent near Brighton, and afterwards repeated by one of the auditors while I transcribed it.