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Updated: May 16, 2025
One Sunday an old Gipsy was assuring me, with a great appearance of piety, that on that day she neither told fortunes nor worked at any kind of labour in fact, she kept it altogether correctly. "Avali, dye," I replied. "Do you know what the Gipsies in Germany say became of their church?" "Kek," answered the old lady. "No. What is it?"
"MANDY jins of . Patsa mandy, te bitcha lav ki tu shan. Opray minno lav, mandy'l kek pukka til tute muks a mandi. Tute's di's see se welni poggado. Shom atrash tuti dad'l jal divio. Yov'l fordel sor. For miduvel's kom, muk lesti shoon choomani." In English: "I know of . Trust me, and send word where you are. On my word, I will not tell till you give me leave.
I pookered him I'd pii'd dui or trin curros levinor and was pash matto. An' he penned mandy, "My mush was matto sar tute, and I nashered him." I pookered him ajaw, "I hope not, rya, for such a bitti covvo as dovo; an' he aint cammoben to piin' levinor, he's only used to pabengro, that don't kair him matto." But kek, the choro mush had to jal avree.
"And if you throw red pepper where dogs make water, they will not go there any more after they smell it, and you can keep it clean." "Well," I replied, "I see that a great many things can be learned from the Gipsies. Tell me, now, when you wanted a night's lodging did you ever go to a union?" "Kek, rya; the tramps that jal langs the drum an' mang at the unions are kek Rommany chals.
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.
Kek'! That's plain," he retorted. "But the 'wolf' is no lamb either! I said I would not go till your father set me free, since you had no right to do so, but a wife should save her husband, and her husband should set himself free for his wife's sake" his voice rose in fierce irony "and so I will now go free. But I will not take the word to the Romany people that you are no more of them.
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!
"I am your husband, but you would have killed me if I had taken a kiss from your lips, sealed to me by all our tribes and by your father and mine." "My lips are my own, my life is my own, and when I marry, I shall marry a man of my own choosing, and he will not be a Romany," she replied with a look of resolution which her beating heart belied. "I'm not a pedlar's basket." "'Kek!
"Yes," replied the Gipsy. "You told me that only bad things keep going, and this money has gone all over the country many a time." All men are not like trees. Some must travel, and cannot keep still. "Where did tute chore adovo rani?" putchered the prastramengro. "It's kek rani; it's a pauno rani that I kinned 'dree the gav to del tute."
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.
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