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An' you can dick by dovo that the kukalos, an' fairies, an' mullos, and chovihans all rakker puro tacho Rommanis, 'cause that's the old 'Gyptian jib that was penned adree the Scripture tem. If a Gipsy is lost and cannot find his way in the night, he cries out, "Hup, hup Rom-ma-ny, Rom-ma-ny jo-ter!" When the children cannot find the tent, it is the same cry, "Rom-ma-ny jo-ter!"
Avali, they chase sperits just the sim as anything 'dree the world dan'r 'em, koor 'em, chinger 'em 'cause the dogs can't be dukkered by mullos." In English: "Yes, sir, yes. Every man can see ghosts if it is their will to be seen. But many creatures can see ghosts whether the ghosts wish it or not. He ran a mile behind, but after a while came back to the waggons.
'Good-night, Sinfi, I said, shaking her hand; 'and now, Videy, I will show you your room. 'Oh, but Videy an' me sleeps togither, don't we? 'Certainly, if you wish it, I replied. 'She's afeard o' the "mullos," said Videy scornfully, as she went and stood before an old engraved Venetian mirror I had picked up at Chester, admiring her own perfect little figure reflected therein.
If you move in etching circles, dear readers, you will at once know to whom I refer. The quick eye of the Gipsy at once observed my pipe. "That is a crow-swagler a crow-pipe," he remarked. "Why a crow-pipe?" "I don't know. Some Gipsies call 'em mullos' swaglers, or dead men's pipes, because those who made 'em were dead long ago.
'Ever since she's know'd you she's bin afeard o' mullos, and keeps Pharaoh with her o' nights; the mullos never come where there's a crowin' cock. I did not look at Sinfi, but bent my eyes upon the mirror, where, several inches above the reflex of Videy's sarcastic face, shone the features of Sinfi, perfectly cut as those of a Greek statue.
"Rommanys never lel kaulo matchers adree the ker, 'cause they're mullos, and beng is covvas; and the puro beng, you jin, is kaulo, an' has shtor herros an' dui mushis an' a sherro. But pauno matchers san kushto, for they're sim to pauno ghosts of ranis."
And then after all this learning came references to poor ignorant Fenella Stanley's letters and extracts from them. In one of these extracts I was startled to come upon the now familiar word 'crwth. 'De Welch fok ses as de livin mullos only follow the crwth on Snowdon wen it is playde by a Welch Chavi, but dat is all a lie.
And the same might have been said of Carolan, the Irish bard, who lived in poetry and died in whisky. The soul sleeping or dreaming away to God suggested an inquiry into the Gipsy idea of the nature of spirits. Can everybody see them, I wonder?" "Avo, rya, avo. Every mush can dick mullos if it's their cammoben to be dickdus. But 'dusta critters can dick mullos whether the mullos kaum it or kek.
'An' yit there ain't no dukkerin' dook, an' there ain't no mullos. Among the elaborately-engraved flowers and stars at the top of the mirror was the representation of an angel grasping a musical instrument. 'Look, look! said Sinfi, 'I never know'd afore that angels played the crwth. I wonder whether they can draw a livin' mullo up to the clouds, same as my crwth can draw one to Snowdon?
You may kiss the book on that. 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.
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