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Joter means together. So my father cried again, "Gipsy, here!" But as he hallooed there came a great blast of wind, and the little ladies and all flew away in the sky like birds in a storm, and all he heard was a laughing and "Rom-ma-ny jo-ter!" softer and softer, till all was done. Yeckorus a Rommany chal kaired adusta wongur, and was boot barvelo an' a boro rye.
"How much wongur?" an' he pookered man'y "Desh bar;" I penned: "Is dovo, noko gry?" "Avali." Well, a Rommany chul del him desh bar for the gry an' bikined it for twelve bar to a boro rye. It was a fino kaulo gry with a boro herree, but had a naflo piro; it was the nearo piro an' was a dellemescro. He del it some hopium drab to hatch adoi, and tooled his solivengro upo the purgis.
Well, as yuv was rikkinin' the trushnee an' siggerin burry ora bender the drum, he dicked a rye, who penned, "If tute'll jaw to the ker and hatch minni's juckal ta mandy, mi'll del tute a pash-korauna." So he got a waver chavo to rikker the trushnee for pash the wongur, whilst he jalled for the juckal. So he lelled it.
After an hour the woman heard the child cry, and looked into the bag with great amazement, and said, "If the pigs in this country change into children, into what do the children change?" 'Pre yeck divvus a Rommany dye dukkered a rakli, and pookered laki that a kaulo rye kaumed her. But when the chi putchered her wongur, the rakli penned, "Puri dye, I haven't got a poshero to del tute.
So she del it a lester, an' he jalled avree for trin cooricus, an' he keravit apre, an' kaired it pauno sar rupp. Adovo he welled akovo drum pauli, an' jessed to the same ker, an' penned, "Dick acai at covi kushti kekavi! I del shove trin mushis for it, an' tu shall lel it for the same wongur, 'cause you've been so kushto a mandy."
"Garn, you farthin' face! Shet your neck." "All very fine, Mister Blackey, but how would you like a smack in the bloomin' eye? I done the best as I knew for you, and there ain't a bloke round as has a judy wot'll go where I goes and hand over the wongur." "Never mind, I was waxy when I done it. Maybe we'll 'ave some luck to morrow'."
My cammoben to turo mush an' turo dadas an' besto bak. We've had wafri bak, my pen's been naflo this here cooricus, we're doin' very wafro and couldn't lel no wongur. Your dui pals are kairin kushto, prasturin 'bout the tem, bickinin covvas. Your puro kako welled acai to his pen, and hatched trin divvus, and jawed avree like a puro jucko, and never del mandy a poshero. Kek adusta nevvi.
I lelled sar my wongur pauli; and here's tute's wongur acai, an' a bar for tute an' shtar bar for mi-kokero." An' that's tacho as ever you tool that pen in tute's waster an' dovo mush was poor Charley Lee, that's mullo kenna. Then he went home to his father's sacks and took five pounds out. After a little while he saw his father and told him he'd taken five pounds from his bags.
There's no kushtoben in what don't hatch acai." Penned the Rommany chal, "Sikker mandy tute's wongur!" Penned the Rommany chal, "Acovo's sar wafri wongur." "Kek," penned the Gorgio; "se sar kushto an' kirus. Chiv it adree tute's wast and shoon it ringus." "Avo," penned the Rommany chal. Once upon a time a Gorgio said to a Gipsy, "Why do you always go about the country so?
"No," said the gentleman; "for if I did, I should never walk well again." Credit is better than money. Pre yeck chairus a Rommany dye adree the wellgooro rakkered a rye to del laker trin mushi for kushto bak. An' he del it, an' putchered laki, "If I bitcher my wongur a-mukkerin' 'pre the graias, ki'll manni's bak be?"
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