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And yeck ratti my dadas, sixty besh kenna, was pirryin' par the weshes to tan, an' he shooned a bitti gudlo like bitti ranis a rakkerin' puro tacho Rommanis, and so he jalled from yeck boro rukk to the waver, and paul' a cheirus he dicked a tani rani, and she was shellin' avree for her miraben, "Rom-ma-ny, Rom-ma-ny jo-ter!" So my dada shokkered ajaw, "Rom-ma-ny chal, ak-ai!"
When further interrogated on the same subject, he said: "A'ter my juva mullered, if I dicked a waver rakli with lakis'nav, an' mandy was a rakkerin laki, mandy'd pen ajaw a waver geeri's nav, an rakker her by a waver nav: dovo's to pen I'd lel some bongonav sar's Polly or Sukey.
Let us take a drop of brandy life is short, and here's my bottle. But I'm all right, and you can leave your spoons out. Tacho." "The boshno an' kani The rye an' the rani; Welled acai 'pre the boro lun pani. Rinkeni juva hav acai! Del a choomer to the rye!" "Duveleste!" said the old fortune-teller, "that ever I should live to see a rye like you! A boro rye rakkerin' Rommanis!
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