Romano Lavo-Lil Part 31

Baulo-mengreskey tem Swineherds' country, Hamps.h.i.+re b.i.t.c.heno padlengreskey tem Transported fellows' country, Botany Bay Bokra-mengreskey tem Shepherds' country, Suss.e.x Bori-congriken gav Great church town, York Boro-rukeneskey gav Great tree town, Fairlop Boro gueroneskey tem Big fellows' country, Northumberland Chohawniskey tem Witches' country, Lancas.h.i.+re Choko-mengreskey gav Shoemakers' town, Northampton Churi-mengreskey gav Cutlers' town, Sheffield Coro-mengreskey tem Potters' country, Staffords.h.i.+re Cosht-killimengreskey tem Cudgel players' country, Cornwall Curo-mengreskey gav Boxers' town, Nottingham Dinelo tem Fools' country, Suffolk Giv-engreskey tem Farmers' country, Buckinghams.h.i.+re Gry-engreskey gav Horsedealers' town, Horncastle Guyo-mengreskey tem Pudding-eaters' country, Yorks.h.i.+re Hindity-mengreskey tem Dirty fellows' country, Ireland Jinney-mengreskey gav Sharpers' town, Manchester Juggal-engreskey gav Dog-fanciers' town, Dudley Juvlo-mengreskey tem Lousy fellows' country, Scotland Kaulo gav The black town, Birmingham Levin-engriskey tem Hop country, Kent Lil-engreskey gav Book fellows' town, Oxford Match-eneskey gav Fishy town, Yarmouth Mi-develeskey gav My G.o.d's town, Canterbury Mi-krauliskey gav Royal town, London Nas.h.i.+-mescro gav Racers' town, Newmarket Pappin-eskey tem Duck country, Lincolns.h.i.+re Paub-p.a.w.nugo tem Apple-water country, Herefords.h.i.+re Porrum-engreskey tem Leek-eaters' country, Wales Pov-engreskey tem Potato country, Norfolk Rashayeskey gav Clergyman's town, Ely Rokrengreskey gav Talking fellows' town, Norwich Shammin-engreskey gav Chairmakers' town, Windsor Tudlo tem Milk country, Ches.h.i.+re Weshen-eskey gav Forest town, Epping Weshen-juggal-slommo-mengreskey tem Fox-hunting fellows' country, Leicesters.h.i.+re Wongareskey gav Coal town, Newcastle Wusto-mengresky tem Wrestlers' country, Devons.h.i.+re

THOMAS ROSSAR-MESCRO

Prey Juniken bis diuto divvus, drey the besh yeck mille ochto shel shovardesh ta trin, mande jaw'd to d.i.c.k Thomas Rossar-mescro, a puro Romano, of whom mande had shoon'd bute. He was jibbing drey a tan naveno Rye Groby's Court, kek dur from the Coromengreskoe Tan ta Bokkar-engreskey Wesh. When mande d.i.c.k'd leste he was bes.h.i.+ng prey the poov by his wuddur, chiving misto the poggado tuleskey part of a skammin. His ker was posh ker, posh wardo, and stood drey a corner of the tan; kek dur from lesti were dui or trin wafor ker-wardoes.

There was a wafudo canipen of baulor, though mande d.i.c.k'd kekkeney.

I penn'd "Sars.h.i.+n?" in Romany jib, and we had some rokrapen kettaney.

He was a boro mush, as mande could d.i.c.k, though he was bes.h.i.+ng. But though boro he was kek tulo, ta lescre wastes were tarney sar yek rawnie's. Lollo leste mui sar yeck weneskoe paub, ta lescro bal rather lollo than parno. Prey his shero was a beti stadj, and he was kek wafudo riddo. On my putching leste kisi boro he was, ta kisi puro, he penn'd that he was sho pire sore but an inch boro, ta enyovardesh ta dui besh puro. He didn't jin to rokkra bute in Romano, but jinn'd almost sore so mande rokkar'd te leste. Moro rokkrapen was mostly in gorgiko jib. Yeck covar yecklo drey lescro drom of rokkring mande pennsch'd kosko to rig in zi. In tan of penning Romany, sar wafor Romany chals, penn'd o Roumany, a lav which sig, sig rigg'd to my zi Roumain, the tatcho, puro nav of the Vallackiskie jib and foky. He seem'd a biti aladge of being of Romany rat. He penn'd that he was beano drey the Givengreskey Tem, that he was kek tatcho Romano, but yeckly posh ta posh: lescro dado was Romano, but lescri daya a gorgie of the Lilengreskoe Gav; he had never camm'd bute to jib Romaneskoenaes, and when tarno had been a givengreskoe raklo. When he was boro he jall'd adrey the Lilengrotemskey militia, and was desh ta stor besh a militia curomengro. He had jall'd bute about Engli-tem and the juvalo- mengreskey, Tem, drey the cheeros of the puri chingaripen, and had been adrey Monseer-tem, having volunteered to jal odoy to cour agen the parley-woo gueros. He had d.i.c.k'd Bordeaux and the boro gav Paris. After the chingaripen, he had lell'd oprey skamminengring, and had jall'd about the tem, but had been knau for buter than trianda beshor jibbing in Lundra. He had been romado, but his romadi had been mullee bute, bute cheeros; she had dinn'd leste yeck chavo, so was knau a heftwardesh beshengro, d.i.c.king bute puroder than yo cocoro, ta kanau lying naflo of a tatti naflipen drey yeck of the wardes. He penn'd that at yeck cheeros he could kair dosta luvvu by skammin-engring, but kanau from his bori puripen could scarcely kair yeck tringurushee a divvus. "Ladjipen si," I penn'd, "that a mush so puro as tute should have to booty." "Kosko zi! kosko zi!" he penn'd; "Paracrow Dibble that mande is dosta ruslo to booty, and that mande has koskey camomescres; I shan't be tugnis to jib to be a shel beshengro, though tatchipen si if mande was a rye mande would kair kek booty." His chaveskoe chavo, a trianda ta pansch beshengro, well'd kanau ta rokkar'd mansar. He was a misto d.i.c.king ta rather misto riddo mush, sar chimouni jinneymengreskey drey lescro mui. He penn'd that his dadeskoe dad was a fino puro mush, savo had d.i.c.k'd bute, and that dosta, dosta foky well'd odoy to shoon lescre rokkrapenes of the puro cheeros, of the Franciskie ta Amencanskie chingaripenes, and of what yo had d.i.c.k'd drey wafu tems. That tatchipen to pen there was a cheeros when his drom was dur from kosko, for that he camm'd to cour, sollohaul ta kair himself motto, but that kanau he was a wafu mush, that he had muk'd sore curopen and wafudo rokkrapen, and, to corauni sore, was yeck tee-totaller, yo cocoro having kair'd leste sollohaul that he would pi kekomi neither tatti panie nor levinor: that he jall'd sore the curques either to congri or Tabernacle, and that tho' he kek jinn'd to del oprey he camm'd to shoon the Miduveleskoe lil dell'd oprey to leste; that the panishkie ryor held leste drey boro camopen, and that the congriskoe ras.h.i.+, and oprey sore Dr. P. of the Tabernacle had a boro opinionos of leste, ta penn'd that he would hal the Miduveleskoe habben sar moro Araunyo Jesus drey the kosko tem opral. Mande putch'd whether the Romany Chals well'd often to d.i.c.k leste? He penn'd that they well'd knau and then to pen Koshto divvus and Sars.h.i.+n? but dov' odoy was sore; that neither his dadeskoe dad nor yo cocoro camm'd to d.i.c.k lende, because they were wafodu foky, perdo of wafodupen and bango camopen, ta oprey sore bute envyous; that drey the wen they jall'd sore cattaney to the ryor, and rokkar'd wafodu of the puno mush, and pukker'd the ryor to let lester a coppur which the ryor had lent leste, to kair tatto his choveno puro truppo drey the cheeros of the trashlo s.h.i.+llipen; that tatchipen si their wafodupen kaired the puro mush kek dosh, for the ryor pukker'd lende to jal their drom and be aladge of their cocore, but that it was kek misto to pensch that yeck was of the same rat as such foky. After some cheeros I dinn'd the puro mush a tawno cuttor of rupe, shook leste by ye wast, penn'd that it would be mistos amande to d.i.c.k leste a shel-beshengro, and jaw'd away keri.

THOMAS HERNE

On the twenty-second day of June, in the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, I went to see Thomas Herne, an old Gypsy, of whom I had heard a great deal. He was living at a place called Mr.

Groby's Court, not far from the Potteries and the Shepherd's Bush.

When I saw him, he was sitting on the ground by his door, mending the broken bottom of a chair. His house was half-house half-waggon, and stood in a corner of the court; not far from it were two or three other waggon-houses. There was a disagreeable smell of hogs, though I saw none. I said, "How you do?" in the Gypsy tongue, and we had discourse together. He was a tall man, as I could see, though he was sitting. But, though tall, he was not stout, and his hands were small as those of a lady. His face was as red as a winter apple, and his hair was rather red than grey. He had a small hat on his head, and he was not badly dressed. On my asking him how tall he was, and how old, he said that he was six foot high, all but an inch, and that he was ninety-two years old. He could not talk much Gypsy, but understood almost all that I said to him. Our discourse was chiefly in English. One thing only in his manner of speaking I thought worthy of remembrance. Instead of saying Romany, like other Gypsies, he said Roumany, a word which instantly brought to my mind Roumain, the genuine, ancient name of the Wallachian tongue and people. He seemed to be rather ashamed of being of Gypsy blood. He told me that he was born in Buckinghams.h.i.+re, that he was no true Gypsy, but only half-and-half: his father was a Gypsy, but his mother was a Gentile of Oxford; he had never had any particular liking for the Gypsy manner of living, and when little had been a farmer's boy. When he grew up he enlisted into the Oxford militia, and was fourteen years a militia soldier. He had gone much about England and Scotland in the time of the old war, and had been in France, having volunteered to go thither to fight against the French. He had seen Bordeaux and the great city of Paris. After war he had taken up chair-making, and had travelled about the country, but had been now for more than thirty years living in London. He had been married, but his wife had long been dead. She had borne him a son, who was now a man seventy years of age, looking much older than himself, and at present lying sick of a burning fever in one of the caravans. He said that at one time he could make a good deal of money by chair-making, but now from his great age could scarcely earn a s.h.i.+lling a day. "What a shame," said I, "that a man so old as you should have to work at all!" "Courage!

courage!" he cried; "I thank G.o.d that I am strong enough to work, and that I have good friends; I shan't be sorry to live to be a hundred years old, though true it is that if I were a gentleman I would do no work." His grandson, a man of about five-and-thirty, came now and conversed with me. He was a good-looking and rather well-dressed man, with something of a knowing card in his countenance. He said that his grandfather was a fine old man, who had seen a great deal, and that a great many people came to hear his stories of the old time, of the French and American wars, and of what he had seen in other countries. That, truth to say, there was a time when his way was far from commendable, for that he loved to fight, swear, and make himself drunk; but that now he was another man, that he had abandoned all fighting and evil speaking, and, to crown all, was a tee- totaller, he himself having made him swear that he would no more drink either gin or ale: that he went every Sunday either to church or Tabernacle, and that, though he did not know how to read, he loved to hear the holy book read to him; that the gentlemen of the parish entertained a great regard for him, and that the church clergyman and, above all, Dr. P. of the Tabernacle had a high opinion of him, and said that he would partake of the holy banquet with our Lord Jesus in the blessed country above. On my inquiring whether the Gypsies came often to see him, he said that they came now and then to say "Good day" and "How do you do?" but that was all; that neither his grandfather nor himself cared to see them, because they were evil people, full of wickedness and left-handed love, and, above all, very envyous; that in the winter they all went in a body to the gentlemen and spoke ill of the old man, and begged the gentlemen to take from him a blanket which the gentlemen had lent him to warm his poor old body with in the time of the terrible cold; that it is true their wickedness did the old man no harm, for the gentlemen told them to go away and be ashamed of themselves, but that it was not pleasant to think that one was of the same blood as such people. After some time I gave the old man a small piece of silver, shook him by the hand, said that I should be glad to see him live to be a hundred, and went away home.

KOKKODUS ARTARUS

Drey the puro cheeros there jibb'd a puri Romani juva, Sinfaya laki nav. Tatchi Romani juva i; caum'd to rokkra Romany, nav'd every mush kokkodus, ta every mus.h.i.+ deya. Yeck chavo was laki; lescro nav Artaros; dinnelo or diviou was O; romadi was lesgue; but the rommadi merr'd, mukking leste yeck chavo. Artaros caum'd to jal oprey the drom, and sikker his nangipen to rawnies and kair muior. At last the ryor chiv'd leste drey the diviou ker. The chavo jibb'd with his puri deya till he was a desch ta pantsch besh engro. Yeck divvus a Romani juva jalling along the drom d.i.c.k'd the puri juva bes.h.i.+ng tuley a bor roving: What's the matter, Sinfaya, pukker'd i?

My chavo's chavo is lell'd oprey, deya.

What's he lell'd oprey for?

For a meila and posh, deya.

Why don't you jal to d.i.c.k leste?

I have nash'd my maila, deya.

O ma be tugni about your maila; jal and d.i.c.k leste.

I don't jin kah se, deya! diviou kokkodus Artaros jins, kek mande.

Ah diviou, diviou, jal amande callico.

MANG, PRALA

Romano chavo was manging sar bori gudli yeck rye te del les pasherro.

Lescri deya so was bes.h.i.+ng kek dur from odoy penn'd in gorgikey rokrapen: Meklis juggal, ta av acoi! ma kair the rye kinyo with your gudli! and then penn'd sig in Romany jib: Mang, Prala, mang! Ta o chavo kair'd ajaw till the rye chiv'd les yeck shohaury.

[Something like the following little anecdote is related by the Gypsies in every part of Continental Europe.]

BEG ON, BROTHER

A Gypsy brat was once pestering a gentleman to give him a halfpenny.

The mother, who was sitting nigh, cried in English: Leave off, you dog, and come here! don't trouble the gentleman with your noise; and then added in Romany: Beg on, brother! and so the brat did, till the gentleman flung him a sixpence.

ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS

WELLING KATTANEY

Coin si deya, coin se dado?

Pukker mande drey Romanes, Ta mande pukkeravava tute.

Rossar-mescri minri deya!

Vardo-mescro minro dado!

Coin se dado, coin si deya?

Mande's pukker'd tute drey Romanes; Knau pukker tute mande.

Petuiengro minro dado!

Purana minri deya!

Tatchey Romany si men - Mande's pukker'd tute drey Romanes, Ta tute's pukker'd mande.

THE GYPSY MEETING

Who's your mother, who's your father?

Do thou answer me in Romany, And I will answer thee.

A Hearne I have for mother!

A Cooper for my father!

Who's your father, who's your mother?

I have answer'd thee in Romany, Now do thou answer me.

A Smith I have for father!

A Lee I have for mother!

True Romans both are we - For I've answer'd thee in Romany, And thou hast answer'd me.

LELLING CAPPI