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Updated: June 12, 2025
'Hal, said Sinfi, 'a Romany's feelin's ain't like a Gorgio's. A Romany can feel the bite of a sap whether it's made o' flesh an' blood or not, and the Romany Sap's all the wuss for not bein' a flesh-and-blood sap, for it's a cuss hatched in the airth; it's everythink a-cussin' on ye the airth, an' the sky, an' the dukkerin' dook.
Well, it's somethin' like that, only bein' done by the knocking sperrits, it's grander and don't come 'cept when they hears the Welsh dukkerin gillie. Now, you must hide yourself somewheres while I go and touch the crwth in her favourite place. I think she'll come to that.
"Don't say so, child; he's sick, 'tis true, but don't laugh at dukkerin, only folks do that that know no better. I, for one, will never laugh at the dukkerin dook. Sick again; I wish he was gone." "He'll soon be gone, bebee; let's leave him. He's as good as gone; look there, he's dead." "No, he's not, he'll get up I feel it; can't we hasten him?"
You hadn't been my pal long afore I know'd that. Arter I had been with you a-lookin' for Winnie or fishin' in the brooks, many's the time, when I lay in the tent with the star-light a-shinin' through the chinks in the tent's mouth, that I've said to myself, "The very Gorgio as my mother seed a-comin' to the Lovells when she penned my dukkerin, he's asleep in his livin'-waggin not five yards off."
He jawed to the wellgooro, to the boro gav, with a poggobavescro gry an' a nokengro. You could a mored dovo gry an' kek penn'd a lav tute. I del it some ballovas to hatch his bavol and I bikened it for 9 bar, to a rye that you jins kushto. Lotti was at the wellgooro dukkerin the ranis. She lelled some kushti habben, an' her jellico was saw porder, when she dicked her mush and shelled. "Havacai!
Everything wrong as you does, such as killin' a Romany, or cheatin' a Romany, or playin' the lubbany with a Gorgio, or breakin' your oath to your mammy as is dead, or goin' ag'in the dukkerin' dook, an' sich like, every one o' these things turns into the Romany Sap. 'You're speaking of conscience, Sinfi.
"Well, we will take no oaths on the subject; but you yourself believe in the soul. I have heard you say that you believe in dukkerin; now what is dukkerin but the soul science?" "When did I say that I believed in it?"
‘Then you are married, Jasper?’ ‘Ay, truly; I am husband and father. You will see wife and chabo anon.’ ‘Where are they now?’ ‘In the gav, penning dukkerin.’ ‘We were talking of language, Jasper?’ ‘True, brother.’ ‘Yours must be a rum one?’ ‘’Tis called Rommany.’ ‘I would gladly know it.’ ‘You need it sorely.’ ‘Would you teach it me?’ ‘None sooner.’ ‘Suppose we begin now?’
"Ay, ay, brother, our fathers, brothers, and cokos gives us all manner of credit; for example, I am telling lies and dukkerin in a public-house where my batu or coko perhaps both are playing on the fiddle; well, my batu and my coko beholds me amongst the public-house crew, talking nonsense and hearing nonsense; but they are under no apprehension; and presently they sees the good-looking officer of militia, in his greens and Lincolns, get up and give me a wink, and I go out with him abroad, into the dark night perhaps; well, my batu and my coko goes on fiddling just as if I were six miles off asleep in the tent, and not out in the dark street with the local officer, with his Lincolns and his greens."
I was determined to make a horse-shoe, and a good one, in spite of every obstacle—ay, in spite of dukkerin.
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