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Updated: June 21, 2025
Who would believe the old gypsy? Rather would the Poknees say as I'd killed my dear one. No! no! Artful am I and patient in abiding my time. But the hour strikes, as I said when I spoke to your romi in Devonshire no less, and the foxy moll shall hang. You see, my dear, I waited for some Gentile to speak what I could speak, to say as what I saw was truth for sure.
Chaldea had no need to shoot to keep them apart." "How do you know she shot Pine?" "Oh, I can say nothing the Poknees would listen to," said Mother Cockleshell readily. "For I speak only as I think, and not as I know. But the child was impatient for joy, and hoped by placing the cruel will between true hearts to gain that of the golden rye for her own part. But that she will not. Ha! Ha!
So the Poknees questions us, and lets us go, not being able to make anything of us; but, as we are going, he calls us back. “Good woman,” says the Poknees, “what was that I heard you say just now to the little boy?” “I was telling him, your worship, to go and see the time of day, and to save trouble I said it in our own language.” “Where did you get that language?” says the Poknees. “’Tis our own language, sir,” I tells him, “we did not steal it.” “Shall I tell you what it is, my good woman?” says the Poknees. “I would thank you, sir,” says I, “for ’tis often we are asked about it.” “Well, then,” says the Poknees, “it is no language at all, merely a made-up gibberish.” “Oh, bless your wisdom,” says I, with a curtsey, “you can tell us what our language is, without understanding it!” Another time we meet a parson. “Good woman,” says he, “what’s that you are talking?
'I would thank you, sir, says I, 'for 'tis often we are asked about it. 'Well, then, says the Poknees, 'it is no language at all, merely a made-up gibberish. 'Oh, bless your wisdom, says I, with a curtsey, 'you can tell us what our language is without understanding it! Another time we meet a parson. 'Good woman, says he, 'what's that you are talking?
My husband, without bidding me farewell, set off at full speed, and they after him, but they could not take him, and so they came back and took me, and shook me, and threatened me, and had me before the poknees, who shook his head at me, and threatened me in order to make me discover where my husband was, but I said I did not know, which was true enough; not that I would have told him if I had.
‘Well,’ said I, ‘and what did the Poknees do?’ ‘Do, brother! sent for a plastramengro from Bow Street, quite secretly, and told him what the woman had said; and the night before the full moon, the plastramengro went to the place which the juwa had pointed out, all alone, brother; and in order that he might not be too late, he went two hours before his time.
"Well," said I, "and what did the Poknees do?" "Do, brother, sent for a plastramengro from Bow Street, quite secretly, and told him what the woman had said; and the night before the full moon, the plastramengro went to the place which the juwa had pointed out, all alone, brother; and, in order that he might not be too late, he went two hours before his time.
So at last the poknees and the runners, not being able to make anything out of me, were obliged to let me go, and I went in search of my husband. I wandered about with my cart for several days in the direction in which I saw him run off, with my eyes bent on the ground, but could see no marks of him; at last, coming to four cross roads, I saw my husband's patteran."
We are taken before the Poknees of the gav, myself and sister, to give an account of ourselves. So I says to my sister's little boy, speaking Rommany, I says to the little boy who is with us, Run to my son Jasper, and the rest, and tell them to be off, there are hawks abroad. So the Poknees questions us, and lets us go, not being able to make anything of us; but, as we are going, he calls us back.
So I says to my sister's little boy, speaking Rommany, I says to the little boy who is with us, 'Run to my son Jasper, and the rest, and tell them to be off, there are hawks abroad'. So the Poknees questions us, and lets us go, not being able to make anything of us; but, as we are going, he calls us back.
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