Founded 1865 :°—= Gabnour &Dean Ith Glasgow: ai = ROMANO LAVO-LIL: WORD BOOK OF THE ROMANY 0. pn oR ILLINOIS STATE UNIVERSITY NORMAL, ILLINOIS a MILNER LIBRARY ROMANO LAVO-LIL: WORD-BOOK OF THE ROMANY; OR, English Gppsyp Lanquage. IMOMIPAN OTL AVO-LIE: WORD-BOOK OF THE ROMANY: GCnglish Gypsy Language. WITH MANY PIECES IN GYPSY, ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE WAY OF SPEAKING AND THINKING OF THE ENGLISH GYPSIES ; WITH SPECIMENS OF THEIR POETRY, AND AN ACCOUNT OF CERTAIN GYPSYRIES OR PLACES INHABITED BY THEM, AND OF VARIOUS THINGS RELATING TO GYPSY LIFE IN ENGLAND. By GEORGE BORROW, AUTHOR OF “THE GYPSIES OF SPAIN,” “THE BIBLE IN SPAIN,” ETC, “Can you rokra Romany ? Can you play the bosh? Can you jal adrey the staripen? Can you chin the cost?” “Can you speak the Roman tongue? Can you play the fiddle? Can you eat the prison-loaf? Can you cut and whittle?” Neto Cdition. LONDON: JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 1888. _DxX Io] . B ( WORKS BY GEORGE BORROW. Post 8vo., 2s. 6d. eaeh. THE BIBLE IN SPAIN; or, the Journnys and IMPRISONMENTS of an ENGLISHMAN in an attempt to circulate the ScrIPTURES IN THE PENINSULA. With Portrait. THE ZINCALI: An Account of THE Gypsies oF SPAIN: their Manners, Customs, Religion, and Language. LAVENGRO; Tue ScHoLan—THE Gypsy—and THE PRIEST. THE ROMANY RYE: A SeEqQuet To LAVENGRO. WILD WALES: Its Proriz, LANGUAGE, and SCENERY. Also, uniform with the above, Post 8vo., ds. ROMANO LAVO-LIL; with illustrations of Ene@uish Gypstus, their Poetry and HABITATIONS. Tue Author of the present work wishes to state that the Vocabulary, which forms part of it, has existed in manuscript for many years. It is one of several vocabularies of various dialects of the Gypsy tongue, made by him in different countries. The most considerable—that of the dialect of the Zincali or Rumijelies (Romany Chals) of Spain— was published in the year 1841. Amongt those which remain unpublished is one of the Transyl- vanian Gypsy, made principally at Kolosvar in the year 1844. December 1, 1873. THE WORKS OF GEORGE BORROW. 5 vols., Post 8vo, 5s. each. —_——~woo THE GYPSIES OF SPAIN; their Manners, Customs, Religion, and Language. With Portrait.. THE BIBLE IN SPAIN; or, the JourNrys, ADVEN- TURES, and IMpRISONMENTS of an ENGLISHMAN in an attempt to circulate the ScRIPTURES IN THE PENINSULA. LAVENGRO: Tue Scootarn—THE Gypsy—and THE PRIEST. THE ROMANY RYE: a Sequel to ‘ LAVENGRO.’ WILD WALES: rts PeopLe, Lancuaace, and SCENERY. CONTENTS. —_+#>s—_——_- Mae Exanisa Gypsy LANGUAGE. . /. 9... «,.3 Romano Lavo-Lit: Worp-Book oF THE ROMANY . . RuyMep List or Gypsy VERBS Betiz Rowrarenes: Lirrum Sayincs . . . . Corrorges or M1-Dipsie’s Lin cHIV’D ADREY ROMANES: PIECES OF SCRIPTURE CAST INTO ROMANY THe Lorp’s PRAYER IN THE Gypsy Diauect oF TRAN- EVUVANI AMM CEIEPE Cn et ha Daal y Lit or Romano JINNYPEN : Book OF THE WISDOM OF THE EGYPTIANS. . RomANE Naviorn oF TEMES AND GAVIOR : Gypsy NAMES oF COUNTRIES AND Towns THOMAS Rossar-Mzscro, orn THomas HERNE Koxxopus ARTARUS . . . . . Mana, Prata: Bec on, BROTHER ., ENGLISH Gypsy Sones :— WELLING KatrtTaney: THe Gypsy Merrine LELLING-CAPPI: MAKING A ForTUNE . Tue Dur CHator: THE 'T'wo GyYPpsIEs Mrro Romany Curt: My Roman Lass Ava, Cut: YES, My GIRL Tue TEMESKOE RvE: THe YOUTHFUL EARL 17 105 110 119 130 148 154 167 170 174 176 180 182 184 184 Vill CONTENTS. Eneuiso Gypsy Sones (continued) :— CAMO-GILLIE : LovE-Sone TUGNIS AMANDE: WOE IS ME +e Tue Ryze AND RawnizE: THE SQUIRE AND LADY Romany SuttTur GILLIE: Gypsy LULLABY SHARRAFI KRALYISSA : OUR BLESSED QUEEN PuastrRa Lestr: Run For iT! ForEIGN Gypsy Sones :— THE RomMANY SONGSTRESS L’Erasar: Toe FRIAR Matsrun: MALBRouk THE ENGLISH GYPSIES :— TucanEy BrsHoR: SORROWFUL YEARS THEIR HisToRY Gypsy NAMES . ForTUNE-TELLING . THE HuxKni: CAURING METROPOLITAN GYPSYRIES :— WANDSWORTH . THE PoTTERIES Ryiezy Bosvit . Kirk YETHOLM . THE) . ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. Z ‘ ’ » \ ‘ . 5 e ‘* he | bi f . : . ‘ i * = 2) i F Ag t a vet , as t ’ bk 4 » ? < + j ae J n ae * » 4 . ‘ . * i ¢ > ~ * 4. > ‘ 4 f 5 4 . ee ‘a * as) 4 ! . ' d we > ‘ THE ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. OO Tue Gypsies of Mngland call their language, as the Gypsies of many other countries call theirs, | Romany or Romanes, a word either derived from the Indian Ram or Rama, which signifies a hus- band, or from the town Rome, which took its name either from the Indian Ram, or from the - Gaulic word, Rom, which is nearly tantamount to husband or man, for as the Indian Ram means a husband or man, so does the Gaulic Rom signity that which constitutes a man and enables him to’ become a husband. Before entering on the subject of the English Gypsy, I may perhaps be expected to say some- thing about the original Gypsy tongue. It is however, very difficult to say for certainty any- thing on the subject. There can be no doubt that a veritable Gypsy tongue at one time existed, but that it at present exists there is great doubt in- B 2 4 ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. deed. The probability is that the Gypsy at present exists only in dialects more or less like the language originally spoken by the Gypsy or Zingaro race. Several dialects of the Gypsy are to be found which still preserve along with a con- siderable number of seemingly original words certain curious grammatical forms, quite distinct from those of any other speech. Others are little more than jargons, in which a certain number of Gypsy words are accommodated to the grammati- cal forms of the languages of particular countries. In the foremost class of the purer Gypsy dialects, I have no hesitation in placing those of Russia, Wallachia, Bulgaria, and Transylvania. They are so alike, that he who speaks one of them can make himself very well understood by those who speak any of the rest; from whence it may rea- sonably be inferred that none of them can differ much from the original. Gypsy speech; so that when. speaking of Gypsy language, any one of these may be taken as a standard. One of them —TI shall not mention which—I have selected for that purpose, more from fancy than any particular reason. | The Gypsy language then, or what with some qualification I may call such, may consist of some three thousand words, the greater part of which are decidedly of Indian origin, being connected ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. D with the Sanserit or some other Indian dialect ; the rest consist of words picked up by the Gypsies from various languages in their wanderings from the East. It has two genders, masculine and feminine; o represents the masculine and 7 the feminine: for example, boro rye, a great gentle- man, bore rani, a great lady. There is properly no indefinite article: gajo or gorgio, a man or gen- tile; o gajo,the man. The noun has two numbers, the singular and the plural. It has various cases formed by postpositions, but has, strictly speak- ing, no genitive. It has prepositions as well as -postpositions; sometimes the preposition is used - with the noun and sometimes the postposition; for example, cad o gav, from the town; chungale mannochendar, evil men from, i.e. from evil men. The verb has no infinitive; in lieu thereof, the conjunction ‘ that’ is placed before some person of some tense. ‘I wish to go’ is expressed in Gypsy by camov te jaw, literally, 1 wish that I go; thou wishest to go, caumes te jas, thou wishest that thou goest ; caumen te jallan, they wish that they go. Necessity is expressed by the impersonal verb and the conjunction ‘that’: hom te jav, [must go; lit. I am that I g0; shan te jallan, they are that they go; and soon. There are words to denote the numbers from one up to a thousand. For the number nine there are two words, nw and ennyo. 6 ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. Almost all the Gypsy numbers are decidedly con- nected with the Sanscrit. After these observations on what may be called the best preserved kind of Gypsy, I proceed to a lower kind, that of England. The English Gypsy speech is very scanty, amounting probably to not more than fourteen hundred words, the greater part of which seem to be of Indian origin. The rest form a strange medley taken by the Gypsies from various Eastern and Western languages: some few are Arabic, many are Persian ; some are Sclavo-Wallachian, others genuine Sclavonian. Here and there a Modern Greek or Hungarian word is discoverable; but in the whole English Gypsy tongue, I have never noted but one French word, namely, éass or dass, by which some of the very old Gypsies occasionally call a cup. Their vocabulary being so limited, the Gypsies have of course words of their own only for the most common objects and ideas; as soon as they wish to express something beyond these they must have recourse to English, and even to express some very common objects, ideas, and feelings, they are quite at a loss in their own tongue, and must either employ English words or very vague terms indeed. They have words for the sun and the moon, but they have no word for the stars, and when they wish to name them in Gypsy, they ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. af use a word answering to ‘lights.’ They have a word for a horse and for a mare, but they have no word for a colt, which in some other dialects of the Gypsy is called Auro, and to express a colt they make use of the words tawno gry, a little horse, which after all may mean a pony. They have words for black, white, and red, but none for the less positive colours, none for grey, green, and yellow. They have no definite word either for hare or rabbit, shoshot by which they gene- rally designate a rabbit, signifies a hare as well, and kawn-engro, a word invented to distinguish a hare, and which signifies ear-fellow, is no more applicable to a hare than to a rabbit, as both have long ears. They have no certain word either for to-morrow or yesterday, collico signifying both indifferently. A remarkable coincidence must here be mentioned, as it serves to show how closely related are Sanscrit and Gypsy. Shoshot and collico are nearly of the same sound as the Sanscrit sasa aud kalya, and exactly of the same import; for as the Gypsy shoshoz signifies both hare and rabbit, and collico to-morrow as well as yesterday, so does the Sanscrit sasa signify both hare and rabbit, and kalya to-morrow as well as yesterday. The poverty of their language in nouns the (sypsies endeavour to remedy by the frequent use 8 ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. of the word engro. This word affixed to a noun or verb turns it into something figurative, by which they designate, seldom very appropriately, some ob- ject for which they have no positive name. Hngro properly means a fellow, and engri, which is the feminine or neuter modification, a thing. When the noun or verb terminates in a vowel, engro is turned into mengro, and engri into mengri. I have already shown how, by affixing engro to kaun, the Gypsies have invented a word to express a hare. In lke manner, by affixing engro to pov, earth, they have coined a word for a potato, which they call pov-engro or pov-engrt, earth-fellow or thing, and by adding engro to rukh, or mengro to rooko, they have really a very pretty figurative name for a squirrel, which they call rukh-engro or rooko- mengro, literally a fellow of the tree. Poggra- mengrt, a breaking thing, and pea-mengr?, a drink- ing thing, by which they express, respectively, a mill and a teapot, will serve as examples of the manner by which they turn verbs into substan- tives. This method of finding names for objects, for which there are properly no terms in Gypsy, - might be carried to a great length, much farther, indeed, than the Gypsies are in the habit of carry- ing it: a slack-rope dancer might be termed bitt:- tardranoshellokellimengro, or slightly-drawn-rope- dancing fellow; a drum, duicoshtewrenomengrt, or ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. i) a thing beaten by two sticks, a tambourine, angus- trecurenmmengrt, or a thing beaten by the fingers, and a fife, muepudentmengri, or thing blown by the mouth. All these compound words, however, would be more or less indefinite, and far beyond the comprehension of the Gypsies in general. The verbs are very few, and with two or three exceptions expressive only of that which springs from what is physical and bodily, totally uncon- nected with the mind, for which, indeed, the English Gypsy has no word; the term used for mind, z?, which is a modification of the Hungarian sziv, meaning heart. ‘There are such verbs in this dialect as to eat, drink, walk, run, hear, see, live, die; but there are no such verbs as to hope, mean, hinder, prove, forbid, teaze, soothe. There is the verb apasavello, I believe; but that word, which is Wallachian, properly means being trusted, and was incorporated in the Gypsy language from the Gypsies obtaining goods on trust from the Walla- chians which they never intended to pay for. ‘There is the verb for love, camova ; but that word is expressive of physical desire, and is connected with the Sanscrit Cama, or Cupid. Here, however, the English must not triumph over the Gypsies, as their own verb ‘love’ is connected with a Sanscrit word signifying ‘lust.’ One pure and abstract metaphysical verb the English Gypsy must be 10 ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. allowed to possess, namely penchava, I think; a word of illustrious origin, being derived from the Persian pendashtan. The English Gypsies can count up to six, and have the numerals for ten and twenty, but with those for seven, eight, and nine, perhaps not three Gypsies in England are acquainted. When they wish to express those numerals in their own lan- guage, they have recourse to very uncouth and roundabout methods, saying for seven, dui trins ta yeck, two threes and one; for eight, dua stors, or two fours, and for nine, desh sore but yeck, or ten all but one. Yet at one time the English Gypsies possessed all the numerals as their Transylvanian, Wallachian, and Russian brethren still do; even within the last fifty years there were Gypsies who could count up to a hundred. ‘These were tatchey Romany, real Gypsies, of the old sacred black race, who never slept in a house, never entered a church, and who, on their death-beds, used to threaten their children with a curse, provided they buried them in a churchyard. The two last of them rest, it is believed, some six feet deep beneath the moss of a wild, hilly heath, called in Gypsy, the Heviskey Tan, or place of holes, in . English, Mousehold, near an ancient city, which the Gentiles call Norwich, and the Romans the Chong Gav, or the town of the hill. ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. 11 With respect to Grammar, the English Gypsy is perhaps in a worse condition than with respect to words. Attention is seldom paid to gender; boro rye and boro rawnie being said, though as rawnie is feminine, bori and not boro should be employed. The proper Gypsy plural termina- tions are retained in nouns, but in declension pre- positions are generally substituted for postpositions, and those prepositions English. The proper way of conjugating verbs is seldom or never observed, and the English method is followed. They say, I dick, I see, instead of dico; I dick’d, I saw, in- stead of dikiom ; if I had dick’d, instead of dikiomis. Some of the peculiar features of Gypsy grammar yet retained by the English Gypsies will be found noted in the Dictionary. I have dwelt at some length on the deficiencies and shattered condition of the English Gypsy tongue ; justice, however, compels me to say that it is far purer and less deficient than several of the continental Gypsy dialects. It preserves far more of original Gypsy peculiarities than the French, Italian, and Spanish dialects, and its words retain more of the original Gypsy form than the words of those three ; moreover, however scanty it may be, it is far more copious than the French or the Italian Gypsy, though it must be owned that in respect to copiousness it is inferior 12 ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. to the Spanish Gypsy, which is probably the richest in words of all the Gypsy dialects in the world, having names for very many of the various beasts, birds, and creeping things, for most of the plants and fruits, for all the days of the week, and all the months in the year, whereas most other Gypsy dialects, the English amongst them, have names for only a few common animals and insects, for a few common fruits and natural productions, none for the months, and only a name for a single day—the Sabbath—which name is a modification of the Modern Greek xupsaxi). Though the English Gypsy is generally spoken with a considerable alloy of English words and English grammatical forms, enough of its proper words and features remain to form genuine Gypsy sentences, which shall be understood not only by the Gypsies of England, but by those of Russia, Hungary, Wallachia, and even of Turkey; for example :— Kek man camov te jib bolli-mengreskoenes, Man camoy te jib weshenjugalogones, I do not wish to live like a baptized person,* I wish to live like a dog of the wood.t It is clear-sounding and melodious, and well adapted to the purposes of poetry. Let him * A Christian. t+ A fox. ENGLISH GYPSY LANGUAGE. lis who doubts peruse attentively the following lines :— Coin si deya, coin se dado ? Pukker mande drey Romanes, Ta mande pukkeravava tute. Rossar-mescri minri deya! Wardo-mescro minro dado! ~ Coin se dado, coin si deya? Mande’s pukker’d tute drey Romanes ; Knau pukker tute mande. Petulengro minro dado, Purana minri deya! Tatchey Romany si men— Mande’s pukker’d tute drey Romanes, Ta tute’s pukker’d mande. The first three lines of the above ballad are perhaps the oldest specimen of English Gypsy at present extant, and perhaps the purest. They are at least as old as the time of Elizabeth, and can pass among the Zigany in the heart of Russia for Ziganskie. The other lines are not so ancient. The piece is composed in a metre something like that of the ancient Sclavonian songs, and contains the questions which two strange Gypsies, who sud- denly meet, put to each other, and the answers which they return. Ps ys we wee 4 roa é Ce “yD fia ae” :7%, ” 4 ¥ ie 4 Li. ee A Ue ’ oi } wis ae GE pe < n ree a4 Re “1 * ria ‘ f an : ; ase | / : : na . “ ’ 4) ; ba aie ee The » 4 § > iM nw » é io ROMANO LAVO-LIL. In using the following Vocabulary the Con- tinental manner of pronouncing certain vowels will have to be observed: thus ava must be pronounced like auva, according to the English style; ker like kare, miro like meero, 2 like zee, and puro as if it were written pooro. ROMANO LAVO-LIL. WORD-BOOK OF THE ROMANY. A. Apri, ad. prep. Out, not within, abroad: soving abri, sleeping abroad, not ina house. Celtic Aber, the mouth or outlet of a river. Acai et \ ad. Here. Adje, v.n. To stay, stop. See Atch, az. Adrey, prep. Into. Ajaw, ad. So. Wallachian, Asha. Aladge, a. Ashamed. Sans. Latch, 1laj. Aley, ad. Down: soving’aley, lying down: to kin aley, to buy off, ransom. Hun. Ala, alat. Amande, pro. pers. dat. ‘T’o me. An, v. a. imp. Bring: an lis opré, bring it up. Ana, v.a. Bring. Sans. Ani. Ando, prep. In. Anglo, prep. Before. Apasavello, v.n. I believe. 18 ROMANO LAVO-LIL. Apopli, ad. Again. Spanish Gypsy, Apala (after). Wal. Apoi (then, afterwards). Apré, ad. prep. Up: kair lisapré, doitup. Vid. Opré. Aranya ) s. Lady. Hungarian Gypsy, Aranya. See Araunya | Rawnie. Artav v.a. To pardon, forgive. Wal. Lerta. Artavello | Span. Gyp. Estomar. Artapen, s. Pardon, forgiveness. Artaros. Arthur. Asa ad. Also, likewise, too: meero pal asau, my Asau | brother also. | Asarlas, ad. At all, in no manner. Asa. An affix used in forming the second person sin- gular of the present tense ; ex. gr. camasa, thou lovest. Astis, a. Possible, it is possible: astis mangué, I can : astis lengué, they can. Asha ad, So: ashaw sorlo, so early. Wal. Ashaw Asha. See Ajaw. Atch, von. To stay, stop. Atch opré. Keep up. Atraish, a. part. Afraid. Sans. Tras, to fear: atrasit, frightened. See Traish. Av, imperat. of Ava, to come: av abri, come out. WORD-BOOK OF THE ROMANY. 19 Ava,ad. Yes. Sans. Eva. Ava, v. a. To come. Avata acoi. Come thou here. Avali,ad. Yes. Wal. Aieva (really). Avava. An affix by which the future tense of a verb is formed, ew. gr. mor-avava, I will kill. See Vava. Aukko, ad. Here. Az,v.n. To stay. B. Bat,s. Hair. Tibetian, Bal(wool). Sans. Bala (hair). Baleneskoe, a. Hairy. Balormengro. A hairy fellow; Hearne, the name ofa Gypsy tribe. Balanser, s. The coin called a sovereign. Ballivas, s. Bacon. Span. Gyp. Baliba. Bangalo, a. Devilish. See Beng, bengako. Bango, a. Left, sinister, wrong, false: bango wast, the left hand: to saulohaul bango, like a plastra-mengro, to swear bodily like a Bow- street runner. Sans. Pangu (lame). Hun. Pang, pang6 (stiff, lazy, paralysed). Cc 2 20 Bares, ROMANO LAVO-LIL. A stone, a stoneweight, a pound sterling. Span. Gyp. Bar. Hun. Gyp. bar. Hindustan, Puthur. Wal. Piatre. Fr. Pierre. Gr. Bapos (weight). Bareskey, a. Stony. Bark, s. Breast, woman’s breast. Bas Base s. Pound sterling. Wal. Pes (a weight, burden). Bas-engro, s. A shepherd. ‘Hun. Bacso. Bashadi, s. A fiddle. Bata, s. A bee. Sans. Pata. DAU. Fellow, comrade. See Baw. Baul, s. Snail. See Bowle. Baulo, s. Pig, swine. The proper meaning of this word is anything swollen, anything big or bulky. Itis connected with the English bowle or bole, the trunk of a tree, also with bowl, boll, and belly ; also with whale, the largest of fish, and wale, a tumour; also with the Welsh bol, a belly, and bala, a place of springs and eruptions. It is worthy of remark that the English word pig, besides denoting the same animal as baulo, is of the same original import, being clearly derived from the same WORD-BOOK OF THE ROMANY. 21 root as big, that which is bulky, and the Turkish buyuk, great, huge, vast. Baulie-mas, s. Pork, swine’s flesh. Bavano. Windy, broken-winded. Bavol, s. Wind,air. Sans. Pavana. See Beval. Bavol-engro, s. A wind-fellow; figurative name for a ghost. Baw, bau, s. Fellow, comrade; probably the same as the English country-word baw, bor. Ger. Bauer. Av acoi baw, Come here fellow. Boer, in Walachian, signifies a boyard or lord. Beano, part. pass. Born. Beano abri. Born out of doors, like a Gypsy or vagrant. Bebee, s. Aunt. Rus. Baba, grandmother, old woman, hag; Baba Yaga, the female demon of the Steppes. s. Devil. Sans. Pangka (mud), Accord- Beng ing to the Hindu mythology, there Bengui is a hell of mud; the bengues of the Gypsies seem to be its tenants. Bengako tan,s. Hell. Lit. place belonging to devils. Bengeskoe potan. Devil’s tinder, sulphur. Bengeskoe Devilish. Benglo Ad ROMANO LAVO-LIL. Bengree, s. Waistcoat. Span. Gyp. Blani. Wal. Blani, fur. Berro, béro, s. A ship, a hulk for convicts. Span. Gyp. Bero, las galeras, the galleys; presidio, convict garrison. Ber-engro, s. A sailor. Bero-rukh, s. A mast. s. A year. Sans. Varsha. He could cour drey his besh; he could fight in his Bersh Besh time. Bershor, pl. Years. Besh, v. n. ‘To sit: beshel, he sits. Beshaley Gypsy name of the Stanley tribe. Beshly Besh-engri, s. A chair. See Skammen. Beti, a. Little, small. Beval, s. Wind. See Bavol. Bi, prep. Without: bi luvvu, without money. — Bicunyie, a. Alone, undone: meklis or mukalis bicunyie, let it alone. Bikhin v.a. Tosell.. Hin. Bikna. Bin Bikhnipen, s. Sale. Birk, s. Woman’s breast. See Bark. WORD-BOOK OF THE ROMANY. 23 Bis, a. Twenty. Bisheni, s. The ague. Bitch ed v.a. Tosend. Sans. Bis, bisa. Bitcha Bitched | Sent art. pass. Sent. Bitcheno a “ Bitcheno pawdel. Sent across, transported. Bitti, s.a. Small, piece, a little. This word is not - true Gypsy. | A cant word, but of Gypsy origin, sig- nifying a sister in debauchery, as Pal denotes a brother in villainy. It is the Plani and Beluni of the Spanish Gypsies, by whom some- times Beluhi is made to signify queen ; e.g. Belufi de o tarpe (tem Bloen Blowing opré), the Queen of Heaven, the Virgin. Blowen is used by Lord Byron, in his ‘Don Juan.’ Speaking of the highwayman whom the Don shoots in the vicinity of London, he says that he used to go to such- and-such places of public resort | with—his blowen. Ilinots State University Library 24. ROMANO LAVO-LIL. Bob, s. A bean. Wal. Bob: pl. bobbis, bobs. Boccalo, a. Hungry: boccalé pers, hungry bellies. Bokht, s. Luck, fortune: kosko bokht, good luck. Sans. Bhagya. Pers. Bakht. Bokra, s. A sheep. Hun. Birka. Bokra-choring. Sheep-stealing. Bokkar-engro, s. A shepherd: bokkar-engro drey the dude, man in the moon. Bokkari-gueri, s. Shepherdess. Bokkeriskoe, a. Sheepish, belonging to a sheep: bokkeriskey piré, sheep’s feet. Bolla, v. a. To baptize. , Bonnek, s. Hold: lel bonnek, to take hold. Booko, s. Liver. See Bucca. Bolleskoe divvus. Christmas-day; query, baptismal day. Wal. Botez, baptism. Bollimengreskoenes. After the manner of a Chris- tian. Boogones, s. Smallpox, pimples. See Bugnior. Bor, s. A hedge. | Boona, a. Good. Lat. Bonus. Wal. Boun. Booty, s. Work. Bori, a. fem. Big with child, enceinte. Booty, v. a. To work, labour. WORD-BOOK OF THE ROMANY. 25 Boro, a. Great, big. Hin. Bura. Mod. Gr. Bapivs (heavy). Borobeshemeskeguero, s. Judge, great-sitting-fellow. Boro Gav. London, big city. See Lundra. Boronashemeskrutan. Hpsom race-course. Bosh, s. Fiddle. Pers. jl. 3b Bazee, baz (play, joke), whence the English cant word ‘ bosh.’ See Bashadi. Boshomengro, s._ Fiddler. s. A cock, male-bird. Sans. Puchchin. Wal. Bosh (testicle). Gaelic Baois (libidinousness). Boshta, s. A saddle. Bostaris, s. A bastard. Bovalo, a. Rich. Sans. Bala (strong). Bowle, s. Snail. See Baul. Brishen } s. Rain. Hun. Gyp. Breshino. Sans. Brisheno Vrish. Mod. Gr. Bpésipov. Brisheneskey, a. Rainy: brisheneskey rarde, a rainy Bosno Boshno night ; brisheneskey chiros, a time of rain. Mod. Gr. xaipds Bpoyxepos. Bucea, s. Liver. Sans. Bucca (heart). Wal. Phikat. Bucca naflipen, s. Liver-complaint. Buchee, s. Work, labour. See Butsi. 26 ROMANO LAVO-LIL. Buddigur, s. A shop. Span. Bodega. Buddikur divvus, s, Shopping-day: Wednesday, Saturday. s. pl. Smallpox, blisters. Gael. Boe (a Bugnes pimple): bolg, a blister; bolgach, Bugnior smallpox. Wal. Mougour(a bud). Fr. Bourgeon. Buklo, a. Hungry: buklo tan, hungry spot, a com- mon. Hun. Gyp. Buklo tan (a wilderness). Bul, s. Rump, buttock. Bungshoror | s. pl. Corks. Bungyoror Busnis | s. pl. Spurs, prickles. Mod. Gr. Bacavov Busnior (pain, torment). Buroder, ad. More: ad. ne buroder, no more. Bute, a. ad. Much, very. Hin, Bit. Butsi | s. Work, labour. Buty Butying. Working. | (; CAEN | v.n. To stink. Cane Caenipen : s. s. Nothing. Chiti Chin, v. a. To cut: chin listuley, cut it down. Sans. Chun (to cut off). Hin. Chink. Gaelic, Sgian (a knife). Chin the cost; to cut the stick; to cut skewers for - butchers and pegs for linen-lines, a grand em- ployment of the Gypsy fellows in the neigh- bourhood of London. China-mengri, s.f. A letter; a thing incised, marked, written in. China-mengro, s. Hatchet. Lit. cutting-thing. Chinipen, s. A cut. Ching Chingaro v.a. To fight, quarrel. Chinga-guero, s. A warrior. Chingaripen, s. War, strife. Sans. Sangara. Chingring, part. pres. Fighting, quarrelling. Chik, s. Earth, dirt. Span. Gyp. Chique. Hin. Chikkar. WORD-BOOK OF THE ROMANY. 3l Chiklo, a. Dirty. Chiriclo, s.m. Bird. Hin. Chiriya. Chiricli, s. f. Hen-bird. Chiros, s. Time. Mod. Gr. xatpos. v.a. ‘To cast, fling, throw, place, put: chiv Chiv Chiva lis tuley, fling it down; chiv oprey, put eee up. uss. Kyio (to forge, cast iron). Sans. Kship. Chiving tulipen prey the chokkars. Greasing the shoes. Chofa, s. f. Petticoat. Chohawni, s. Witch. See Chovahano. Chohawno, s. Wizard. Chog, s. Watch, watching. Chok-engro, s. Watchman. Chok, s. Shoe: chokkor, chokkors, shoes. “Hun. Cz6k6 (wooden shoe). Choko-mengro. Shoemaker. Choka, s. Coat. (.s. Whip. Wal. Chokini (a strap, leather). Chokni Hun. Csakany (a mace, sledge hammer). Chukni)} . Hun. Gyp. Chokano (a staff). Wal. Chokan, chokinel (a hammer). Chukni wast, s. The whip-hand, the mastery. 3 ROMANO LAVO-LIL. Chollo, a. s. Whole. Chomany, s. Something. Span. Gyp. Cormuiii (some); chimoni (anything). Wal. Chineba (some one). For every chomany there’s a lav in Romany: there’s a name in Gypsy for everything. Chong, s. Knee. Hun. Czomb. Sans. Chanu. Lat. Genu. Chongor, pl. Knees. v.a. To kiss. Sans. Chumb. Choom- Choom ande, kiss me. Span. Gyp. Chupendi Choomava (a kiss), a corruption of Choo- mande. Choomia, s. . - > - oo \ . ¢ ‘ RHYMED LIST OF GYPSY VERBS St OOS To dick and jin, To bikn and kin; To pee and hal, And av and jal; To kair and poggra, Shoon and rokra; To caur and chore, Heta and cour, Moar and more, To drab and dook, And nash on rook ; To pek and tove, And sove and rove, And nash on poove ; To tardra oprey, And chiv aley ; To pes and gin, To mang and chin, To pootch and pukker, Hok and dukker; T'o besh and kel, To del and lel, 106 RHYMED LIST OF GYPSY VERBS. And jib to tel ; Bitch, atch, and hatch, Roddra and latch ; To gool and saul, And sollohaul ; To pand and wustra, Hokta and plastra, Busna and kistur Maila and grista ; To an and riggur ; To pen and sikker, Porra and simmer, Chungra and chingra, Pude and grommena, Grovena, gruvena ; To dand and choom, Chauva and rom, Rok and gare, Jib and mer With camova, And paracrova, Apasavello And mekello, And kitsi wasror, Sore are lavior, For kairing chomany, In jib of Romany. BETIE ROKRAPENES. ————— LITTLE SAYINGS. = If foky kek jins bute, Ma sal at lende; For sore mush jins chomany That tute kek jins. Whatever ignorance men may show, From none disdainful turn ; For every one doth something know Which you have yet to learn. BETIE ROKRAPENES. a So must I ker, daiya, to ker tute mistos ? It is my Dovvel’s kerrimus, and we can't help asarlus. Mi Dovvel opral, dick tuley opré mande. If I could lel bonnek tute, het-avava tute. Misto kedast tute. Dovey si fino covar, ratfelo jukkal, sas miro. The plastra-mengro sollohaul’d bango. Me camava jaw drey the Nevi Wesh to dick the purey Bare-mescrey. You jin feter dovey oduvu. Will you pes for a coro levinor ? Ma pi kekomi. Ma rokra kekomi. Bori shil se mande. Tatto tu coccori, pen. Kekkeno pawni dov odoi. Sore simensar si men. Tatto ratti se len. LITTLE SAYINGS. OO Wauat must I do, mother, to make you well? It is my God’s doing, and we can’t help at all. My God above, look down upon me! If I could get hold of you, I would slay you. Thou hast done well. That is a fine thing, you bloody dog, if it were mine. The Bow-street runner swore falsely. I will go into the New Forest to see the old Stanleys. You know better than that. Will you pay for a pot of ale? Don’t drink any more. Do not speak any more. I have a great cold. Warm thyself, sister. There is no water there. We are all relations: all who are with us are ourselves. They have hot blood. ‘ee BETIE ROKRAPENES. Wafudu lavior you do pen, miry deary Dovvel. Kair pias to kair the gorgies sal. Nai men chior. So se drey lis ? Misto sis riddo. Muk man av abri. Ma kair jaw. Si covar ajaw. An men posseymengti. Colliko sorlo me deaylis. Pukker zi te lesti. Soving lasa. Tatto si can. - Mande kinyo, nastis jalno durroder. Ma muk de gorgey jinnen sore lidan doyvu luvvu so garridan. Dui trins ta yeck ta pas. Pes apopli. Chiv’d his vast adrey tiro putsi. Penchavo chavo savo shan tu. LITTLE SAYINGS. Els Evil words you do speak, O my dear God. Make fun, to make the Gentiles laugh. I have no girls. What is in it? Thou art well dressed. Let me come out. Don’t do so. The thing is so: so it is. Bring me a fork. To-morrow morning I will give it. Tell her your mind. Sleeping with her. The sun is hot. I am tired, I can go no farther. Don’t let the Gentiles know all the money you took which you hid. ~ Seven pound ten. Pay again. Put his hand into your pocket. The boy is thinking who you are. 114 BETIE ROKRAPENES. Td sooner shoon his rokrapen than shoon Lally gil a gillie. Kekkeno jinava mande ne burreder denne chavo. Aukko tu pios adrey Romanes. LITTLE SAYINGS. 115 I would rather hear him speak than hear Lally sing. | 1 know no more than a child. Here’s your health in Romany ! COTORRES OF MI-DIBBLE’S LIL CHIV’D ADREY ROMANES. ee PIECES OF SCRIPTURE CAST INTO ROMANY. COTORRES OF MI-DIBBLE’S LIL. THE FIRST DAY. Genesis i. 1, 2, 3, 4. Drey the sherripen Midibble kair’d the tem- oprey ta the puv ; Ta the puv was chungalo, ta chichi was adrey lis: Ta temnopen was oprey the mui of the boro put. Ta Midibble’s bavol-engri besh’d oprey the panior ; Ta Midibble penn’d: Mook there be dute! ta there was dute. Ta Midibble dick’d that the doot was koosho- koshko. Ta Midibble chinn’d enrey the dute ta the temnopen ; Ta Midibble kor’d the dute divvus, ta the tem- nopen kor’d yo rarde ; Ta the sarla, ta the sorlo were yeckto divvus. 120 COTORRES OF MI-DIBBLE’S LIL. ECL HD AY Genesis i, 20, 21, 22, 23. THEN Midibble penn’d ; Mook sore the panior Chinn tairie jibbing engris bute dosta, Ta prey puv be bute dosta chiricles To vol adrey the rek of the tarpe. Then Midibble kair’d the borie baulo-matches, T'é sore covar that has jibbing zi adreylis, The bute, bute tairie covars drey the panior Sore yeck drey its genos kair’d Midibble, The chiricles that vol adrey the tarpe Sore yeck drey its genos kaird he lende: Then Midibble dick’d that sore was koosho-kosko, And he chiv’d his koshto rokrapen opreylen : Penn’d Midibble: Dey ye frute ever-komi, Ever-komi be burreder your nummer, Per with covars the panior ta durior, Ta prey puv be burreder the chiricles ! Then was sarla ta sorlo panschto divvus. PIECES OF SCRIPTURE. 121 THE CREATION OF MAN. Genesis i. 27, 28. THEN Mi-dibble kair’d Menoo drey his dikkipen, Drey Mi-dibble’s dikkipen kair’d he leste ; Mush and mushi kair’d Dibble lende And he chiy'd his koshto rokrapen opreylen : Penn’d Mi-dibble: Dey ye frute ever-komi, Ever-komi be burreder your nummer ; Per with chauves and chiyor the puvo And oprey sore the puvo be krallior, Oprey the dooiya and its matches, And oprey the chiricles of the tarpé, And oprey soro covar that’s jibbing And peers prey the mui of the puvo. 12? COTORRES OF MI-DIBBLE’S LIL. THE LORD’S PRAYER. Merry dearie Dad, sauvo jivves drey;the tem oprey, be sharrafo teero nay, te awel teero tem, be kedo sore so caumes oprey ye poov, sar kairdios drey the tem oprey. Dey man to divvus meery divvuskey morro; ta for-dey mande mande’s piz- zaripenes, sar mande fordeava wafor mushes lende’s pizzaripenes; ma mook te petrav drey kek tentacionos, but lel mande abri from sore wafodupen; for teero se o tem, Mi-dibble, teero o ruslopen, ta yi corauni knaw ta ever-komi. Si covar ajaw. 123 THE APOSTLES’ CREED. APASAVELLO drey Mi-dovel; Dad sore-ruslo savo kerdo 0 praio tem, ta cav acoi tuléy: td drey lescro yekkero Chauvo Jesus Christus moro erray, beano of wendror of Mi-develeskey Geiry Mary ; was curredo by the wast of Poknish Pontius Pilatos; was nash’d oprey ye Trihool; was mored, and chived adrey ye puve; jall’d tuley ye temno drom ke wafudo tan, bengeskoe starriben ; ta prey ye trito divvus jall’d yo oprey ke koshto tan, Mi- dovels ker; beshel yo knaw odoy prey Mi-dovels tatcho wast, Dad sore-ruslo; cad odoy avellava to lel shoonapen oprey jibben and merripen; Apasavello drey Mi-dibbleskey Ducos; drey the Bori Mi-develesky Bollisky Congri; that sore tatcho fokey shall jib in mestepen kettaney ; that Mi-dibble will fordel sore wafudopenes ; that soror -mulor will jongor, and there will be kek merripen asarlus. Si covar ajaw. Avali. THE LORD’S PRAYER IN THE GYPSY DIALECT OF TRANSYLVANIA. 126 THE LORDS PRAYER THE LORD’S PRAYER IN THE GYPSY DIALECT OF TRANSYLVANIA. Miro gulo Devel, savo hal oté ando Cheros, te avel swuntunos tiro nav; te avel catari tiro tem ; te keren saro so cames oppo puv, sar ando Cheros. Dé man sekhonus miro diveskoe manro, ta lerta mangue saro so na he plaskerava tuke, sar me ierstavava wafo manuschengue saro so na plas- kerelen mangue. Ma muk te petrow ando chungalo camoben; tama lel man abri saro doschdar, Weika tiro sin o tem, tiri yi potea, tiri yi proslava akana ta sekovar. Te del amen o gulo Del eg meschibo pa amara choribo. Te vas del o Del amengue; te n’avel man pascotia ando drom, te na hoden pen mandar. Ja Develehi! ~ Az Develhi! Ja Develeskey! Az Develeskey! Heri Devlis! IN TRANSYLVANIAN GYPSY. 27 My sweet God, who art there in Heaven, may thy name come hallowed; may thy kingdom come hither; may they do all that thou wishest upon earth, as in Heaven. Give me to-day my daily bread, and forgive me all that I cannot pay thee, as I shall forgive other men all that they do not pay me. Do not let me fall into evil desire ; but take me out from all wickedness. For thine is the kingdom, thine the power, thine the glory now and ever. May the sweet God give us a remedy for our ‘poverty. May God help us! May no misfortune happen to me in the road, and may no one steal any thing from me. Go with God! Stay with God. Go, for God’s sake! Stay, for God’s sake ! By God! . LIL OF ROMANO JINNYPEN. ooo BOOK OF THE WISDOM OF THE EGYPTIANS. LIL OF ROMANO JINNYPEN, =O THEtawno fokey often putches so koskipen se drey the Romano jib? Mande pens ye are sore dinneles ; bute, bute koskipen se adrey lis, ta dusta, dosta of moro foky would have been bitcheno or nash’d, but for the puro, choveno Romano jib. A lay in Romany, penn’d in cheeros to a tawnie rakli, and rigo’d to the tan, has kair’d a boro kisi of luyvo and wafor covars, which had been chor’d, to be chived tuley pov, so that when the muskerres well’d they could latch vanisho, and had kek yeckly to muk the Romano they had lell’d opré, jal his drom, but to mang also his artapen. His bitchenipenskie cheeros is knau abri, and it were but kosko in leste to wel keri, if it were yeckly to lel care of lescri puri, choveny romady ; she’s been a tatchi, tatchi romady to leste, and kek’ man apasavello that she has jall’d with a wafu mush ever since he’s been bitcheno. When yeck’s tardrad yeck’s beti ten oprey, kair’d BOOK OF THE WISDOM OF THE EGYPTIANS. ——tOor—— THE young people often ask: What good is there in the Romany tongue? I answers: Ye are all fools! There is plenty, plenty of good in it, and plenty, plenty of our people would have been transported or hung, but for the old, poor Roman language. A word in Romany said in time to a little girl, and carried to the camp, has caused a great purse of money and other things, which had been stolen, to be stowed underground; so that when the constables came they could find nothing, and had not only to let the Gypsy they had taken up go his way, but also to beg his pardon. His term of transportation has now expired, and it were but right in him to come home, if it were only to take care of his poor old wife: she has been a true, true wife to him, and I don’t believe that she has taken up with another man ever since he was sent across. When one’s pitched up one’s little tent, made K 2 132 ROMANO JINNYPEN. yeck’s beti yag anglo the wuddur, ta nash’d yeck’s kekauvi by the kekauviskey saster oprey lis, yeck kek cams that a dikkimengro or muskerro should wel and pen: so’s tute kairing acai? Jaw oprey, Romano juggal. Prey Juliken yeckto Frydivvus, anglo nango muyiskie staunyi naveni kitchema, prey the chong opral Bororukeskoe Gav, drey the Wesh, tute dickavavasa bute Romany foky, mushor ta juvar, chalor ta cheiar. Jinnes tu miro puro prala Rye Stanniwix, the puro rye savo rigs a bawlo-dumo-mengri, ta kair’d desh ta stor mille barior by covar-plastring ? He jall’d on rokkring ta rokkring dinnelesko- ene till mande pukker’d leste: if tute jasas on dovodoiskoenzs mande curavava tute a tatto yeck prey the nok. You putches mande so si patrins. Patrins are Romany drom sikkering engris, by which the Romany who jal anglo muk lende that wels palal jin the drom they have jall’d by: we wusts wast- perdes of chaw oprey the puv at the jalling adrey of the drom, or we kairs sar a wangust a trihool oprey the chik, or we chins ranior tuley from the rukhies, and chivs lende oprey drey the puv ali- gatas the bor; but the tatcho patrin is wast-perdes WISDOM OF THE EGYPTIANS. HS one’s little fire before the door, and hung one’s kettle by the kettle-iron over it, one doesn’t like that an inspector or constable should come and say: What are you doing here? Take yourself off, you Gypsy dog. On the first Friday of July, before the public- house called the Bald-faced Stag, on the hill above the town of the great tree in the Forest, you will see many Roman people, men and women, lads and. lasses. Do you know my old friend Mr. Stanniwix, the old gentleman what wears a pigtail, and made fourteen thousand pounds by smuggling ? He went on talking and talking foolishness till I said to him: If you goes on in that ’ere way I'll hit you a hot ’un on the nose. You ask me what are patrins. Patrin is the name of the signs by which the Gypsies who go before show the road they have taken to those who follow behind. We flings handfuls of grass down at the head of the road we takes, or we makes with the finger a cross-mark -on the ground, or we sticks up branches of trees by the side of the hedge. But the true patrin is handfuls of leaves flung down; for patrin 134 ROMANO JINNYPEN. of leaves, for patrin or patten in puro Romano jib is the uav of a rukheskoe leaf. The tatcho drom to be a jinney-mengro is to shoon, dick, and rig in zi. : The mush savo kek se les the juckni-wast oprey his jib and his zi is keck kosko to jal adrey sweti. The lil to lel oprey the kekkeno mushe’s puvior and to keir the choveno foky mer of buklipen and shillipen, is wusted abri the Raioriskey rokkaring ker. | 7 The nav they dins lati is Bokht drey Cuesni, because she rigs about a cuesni, which sore the rardies when she jals keri, is sure to be perdo of chored covars. Cav acoi, pralor, se the nav of a lil, the sherro- kairipen of a puro kladjis of Roumany tem. The Borobeshemescrotan, or the lay-chingaripen_be- tween ye jinneynengro ta yi sweti; or the merri- penskie rokrapen chiv’d by the zi oprey the trupo. When the shello was about his men they rigg’d leste his artapen, and muk’d leste jal; but from dovo divvus he would rig a men-pangushi kek- komi, for he penn’d it rigg’d to his zee the shello about his men. WISDOM OF THE EGYPTIANS. 135 or patten in old Roman language means the leaf of a tree. The true way to be a wise man is to hear, see, and bear in mind. The man who has not the whip-hand of his tongue and his temper is not fit to go into company. The Bill to take up the no-man’s lands (com- mons), and to make the poor people die of hunger and cold, has been flung out of the House of Commons. The name they gives her is “ Luck in a basket,” because she carries about a basket, which every night, when she goes home, is sure to be full of stolen property. This here, brothers, is the title of a book, the head-work of an old king of Roumany land: the Tribunal, or the dispute between the wise man and the world: or, the death-sentence passed by the soul upon the body. When the rope was about his neck they brought him his pardon, and let him go; but from that day he would wear a neck-kerchief no more, for he said it brought to his mind the rope about his neck. 136 ROMANO JINNYPEN. Jack Vardomescro could del oprey dosta to jin sore was oprey the mea-bars and the drom- sikkering engris. The Romano drom to pek a chiriclo is to kair it oprey with its porior drey chik, and then to chiv it adrey the yag for a beti burroder than a posh ora. When the chik and the hatch’d porior are lell’d from the chiriclesky trupos, the per’s chinn’d aley, and the wendror’s wusted abri, ’tis a hobben dosta koshto for a crallissa to hal without lon. When Gorgio mushe’s merripen and Romany Chal’s merripen wels kettaney, kek kosto merripen see. Yeckorus he pukker’d mande that when he was a bis beschengro he mored a gorgio, and chived the mulo mas tuley the poov; he was lell’d oprey for the moripen, but as kekkeno could latch the shillo mas, the pokiniuses muk’d him jal; he penn’d that the butsi did not besh pordo pré his zi for bute chiros, but then sore on a sudden he became tugnis and atraish of the mulo — gorgio’s bavol-engro, and that often of a rarde, as he was jalling posh motto from the kitchema by his cocoro, he would dick over his tatcho pikko and his bango pikko, to jin if the mulo mush’s bavol- engro was kek welling palal to lel bonnek of leste. WISDOM OF THE EGYPTIANS. ee Jack Cooper could read enough to know all that was upon the milestones and the sign-posts. The Roman way to cook a fowl is to do it up with its feathers in clay, and then to put it in the fire for a little more than half an hour. When the clay and the burnt feathers are taken from the fowl, the belly cut open, and the inside flung out, ‘tis a food good enough for a queen to eat without salt. _ When the Gentile way of living and the Gypsy way of living come together, it is anything but a good way of living. He told me once that when he was a chap of twenty he killed a Gentile, and buried the dead meat under ground. He was taken up for the murder, but as no one could find the cold meat, the justices let him go. He said that the job did not sit heavy upon his mind for a long time, but then all of a sudden he became sad, and afraid of the dead Gentile’s ghost; and that often of a night, as he was coming half-drunk from the public-house by himself, he would look over his right shoulder and over his left shoulder, to know if the dead man’s ghost was not coming behind to lay hold of him. 138 ROMANO JINNYPEN. Does tute jin the Romano drom of lelling the wast ? Avali, prala. Sikker mande lis. They kairs it ajaw, prala. A chorredo has burreder peeas than a Romany Chal. Tute has shoon’d the lav pazorrus. Dovodoy is so is kored gorgikones “Trusted.” Drey the puro cheeros the Romano savo lelled lovvu, or wafor covars from lescro prala in parriken, ta kek pess’d leste apopli, could be kair’d to buty for leste as gry, mailla or cost-chinnimengro for a besh ta divvus. To divvus kek si covar ajaw. If a Romano lelled lovvu or wafu covars from meero vast in parriken, ta kek pessed mande apophi, sar estist for mande te kair leste buty as gry, mailla, or cost-chinnimengro for mande for yek divvus, kek to pen for sore a besh? Do you nav cavacoi a weilgorus? Ratfelo rinkeno weilgorus cay acoi: you might chiv lis sore drey teero putsi. Kek jinnipenskey covar sé to pen tute’s been bango. If tute pens tute’s been bango, foky will pen: Estist tute’s a koosho koshko mushipen, but tatchipé a ratfelo dinnelo. WISDOM OF THE EGYPTIANS. 139 Do you know the Gypsy way of taking the hand ? Aye, aye, brother. Show it to me. They does it so, brother. A tramp has more fun than a Gypsy. You have heard the word pazorrus. That is what is called by the Gentiles “trusted,” or in debt. In the old time the Roman who got from his brother money or other things on trust, and did not pay him again, could be made to work for him as horse, ass, or wood cutter for a year and a day. At present the matter is not so. Ifa Roman got money, or other things, from my hand on credit, and did not repay me, how could I make him labour for me as horse, ass, or stick- cutter for one day, not to say for a year? Do you call this a fair? ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. 177 MAKING A FORTUNE. “ Come along, my little gypsy girl, Come along, my little dear ; Come along, my little gypsy girl— We'll wander far and near.” “J should get a leathering Should I with thee go; I should get a leathering From my dear aunt, I trow.” “ Tl go down on my two knees, And I will beg your aunt. ‘O auntie dear, give me your child ; She’s just the girl I want!’ “ «Since you ask me for my child, I will not say thee no!’ Come along, my little gypsy girl! To another land we'll go: “T will steal a little horse, And our fortunes make thereby.” “ Not so, my little gypsy boy, For then you'd swing on high ; “ But Pl a fortune-telling go, And our fortunes make thereby.” “ Well said, my little gypsy girl, You counsel famously.” 178 ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. LELLING CAPPI. No. 2. “Av, my little Rumni chel, Av along with mansar ; We will jal a gry-choring Pawdle across the chumba. “T’ll jaw tuley on my chongor ‘ To your deya and your bebee ; And I'll pootch lende that they del Tute to me for romadi.” “Tl jaw with thee, my Rumni chal, If my dye and bebee muk me ; But choring gristurs traishes me, For it brings one to the rukie. “’T were ferreder that you should ker, Petuls and I should dukker, For then adrey our tarney tan, We kek atraish may sova.” “Kusko, my little Rumni chel, Your rokrapen is kusko ; We'll dukker and we'll petuls ker Pawdle across the chumba. “QO kusko si to chore a gry Adrey the kaulo rarde ; But ’tis not kosko to be nash’d Oprey the nashing rukie.” ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. 179 MAKING A FORTUNE. No. 2. “Come along, my little gypsy girl, Come along with me, I pray! A-stealing horses we will go, O’er the hills so far away. “ Before your mother and your aunt [ll down upon my knee, And beg they'll give me their little girl | To be my Romadie.” “Tl go with you, my gypsy boy, If my mother and aunt agree ; But a perilous thing is horse-stealinge, For it brings one to the tree. “Twere better you should tinkering ply, And I should fortunes tell ; For then within our little tent In safety we might dwell.” “Well said, my little gypsy girl, I like well what you say ; We'll tinkering ply, and fortunes tell O’er the hills so far away. “Tis a pleasant thing in a dusky night A horse-stealing to go; But to swing in the wind on the gallows-tree, Is no pleasant thing, I trow.” N 2 180 ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. THE DUI CHALOR. Dur Romany Chals were bitcheney, Bitcheney pawdle the bori pawnee. Plato for kawring, Lasho for choring The putsi of a bori rawnee. And when they well’d to the wafu tem, The tem that’s pawdle the bori pawnee, Plato was nasho sig, but Lasho Was lell’d for rom by a bori rawnee. You cam to jin who that rawnie was, "Twas the rawnie from whom he chor’d the putsee : The Chal bad a black Chohauniskie yack, And she slomm’d him pawdle the bori pawnee. ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. 181 THE TWO GYPSIES. ‘Two Gypsy lads were transported, Were sent across the great water. Plato was sent for rioting, And Louis for stealing the purse Of a great lady. And when they came to the other country, The country that lies across the great water, Plato was speedily hung, But Louis was taken as a husband By a great lady. You wish to know who was the lady, "Twas the lady from whom he stole the purse : The Gypsy had a black and witching eye, And on account of that she followed him Across the great water. 182 ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. MIRO ROMANY CHI. As I was a jawing to the gav yeck divvus I met on the drom miro Romany chi; I pootch’d las whether she come sar mande, And she penn’d tu sar wafo rommadis ; O mande there is kek wafo romady, So penn’d I to miro Romany chi, And [ll kair tute miro tatcho romadi If you but pen tu come sar mande. ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. 183 MY ROMAN LASS. As I to the town was going one day My Roman lass I met by the way ; Said I: Young maid, will you share my lot ? Said she: Another wife you’ve got. Ah no! to my Roman lass I cried : No wife have I in the world so wide, And you my wedded wife shall be If you will consent to come with me. 184 ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. ANA, CHI Hoxka tute mande Mande pukkra bebee Mande shauvo tute— Ava, Chi! THE TEMESKOE RYE. Prnn’D the temeskoe rye to the Romany cli, As the choon was dicking prey lende dui: Rinkeny tawni, Romany rawni, 3 Mook man choom teero gudlo mui. ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. 185 YES, MY GIRL. Ir to me you prove untrue, Quickly Pll your auntie tell Ive been over-thick with you— Yes, my girl, I will. THE YOUTHFUL EARL. Satp the youthful earl to the Gypsy girl, As the moon was casting its silver shine : Brown little lady, Egyptian lady, Let me kiss those sweet lips of thine. 186 ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. CAMO-GILLIE. PawnlE birks My men-engri shall be ; Yackors my dudes Like ruppeney shine: Atch meery chi! Ma jal away : Perhaps I may not dick tute Kek komi. ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. 187 LOVE-SONG. Tp choose as pillows for my head Those snow-white breasts of thine ; I'd use as lamps to light my bed Those eyes of silver shine : O lovely maid, disdain me not, Nor leave me in my pain: Perhaps *twill never be my lot To see thy face again. 188 ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. TUGNIS AMANDE. I’m jalling across the pani— A choring mas and morro, Along with a bori lubbeny, And she has been the ruin of me. I sov’'d yeck rarde drey a gran, A choring mas and morro, Along with a bori lubbeny, And she has been the ruin of me. She pootch’d me on the collico, A choring mas and morro, To jaw with lasa to the show, For she would be the ruin of me: And when I jaw’d odoy with lasa, A choring mas and morro, Sig she chor’d a rawnie’s kissi, And so she was the ruin of me. They lell’d up lata, they lell’d up mande, A choring mas and morro, And bitch’d us dui pawdle pani, So she has been the ruin of me. Tm jalling across the pani, A choring mas and morro, Along with a bori lubbeny, And she has been the ruin of me. ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. WOE IS ME. I’M sailing across the water, A-stealing bread and meat so free, Along with a precious harlot, And she has been the ruin of me. I slept one night within a barn, A-stealing bread and meat so free, Along with a precious harlot, And she has been the ruin of me. Next morning she would have me go, A-stealing bread and meat so free, To see with her the wild-beast show, For she would be the ruin of me. I went with her to see the show, A-stealing bread and meat so free, To steal a purse she was not slow, And so she was the ruin of me. They took us up, and with her I, A-stealing bread and meat so free : Am sailing now to Botany, ‘So she has been the ruin of me. I’m sailing across the water, A-stealing bread and meat so free, Along with a precious harlot, And she has been the ruin of me. 189 190 ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. THE RYE AND RAWNIE. THE rye he mores adrey the wesh The kaun-engro and chiriclo ; You sovs with leste drey the wesh, And rigs for leste the gono. Oprey the rukh adrey the wesh Are chiriclo and chiricli ; Tuley the rukh adrey the wesh Are pireno and pireni. ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. 191 THE SQUIRE AND LADY. THE squire he roams the good greenwood, And shoots the pheasant and the hare ; Thou sleep’st with him in good green wood, And dost for him the game-sack bear. I see, I see upon the tree The little male and female dove; Below the tree I see, I see The lover and his lady love. 192 ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. ROMANY SUTTUR GILLIE. JAw to sutturs, my tiny chal ; Your die to dukker has jall’d abri ; At rarde she will wel palal And tute of her tud shall pie. Jaw to lutherum, tiny baw! I’m teerie deya’s purie mam ; As tute cams her tud canaw Thy deya meerie tud did cam. ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. 193 GYPSY LULLABY. SLEEP thee, little tawny boy ! Thy mother’s gone abroad to spae, Her kindly milk thou shalt enjoy When home she comes at close of day. Sleep thee, little tawny guest ! Thy mother is my daughter fine ; As thou dost love her kindly breast, She once did love this breast of mine. 194. ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. SHARRAFI KRALYISSA. Frnor coachey innar Lundra, Bonor coachey innar Lundra, Finor coachey, bonor coachey Mande dick’d innar Lundra. Bonor, finor coachey Mande dick’d innar Lundra The divvus the Kralyissa jall’d To congri innar Lundra. . PLASTRA LESTI! GARE yourselves, pralor! Ma pee kek-komi! The guero’s welling— Plastra lesti ! ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS. 195 OUR BLESSED QUEEN. CoACcHEs fine in London, Coaches good in London, Coaches fine and coaches good I did see in London. ‘Coaches good and coaches fine I did see in London, The blessed day our blessed Queen Rode to church in London. RUN FOR IT! Up, up, brothers ! Cease your revels! The Gentile’s comine— Run like devils! FOREIGN GYPSY SONGS. ‘¢ Oy die-la, oy mama-la oy! Cherie podey mangue penouri.” Russian Gypsy Song. ri acts . { “ : \ 4 4 , 7 ia : ; ue AO aa ini By 7 iu ¥ ( . i 4 : ; a ‘ os L . = 4 , : ‘ ~ ‘ : * i i] j - \ Lee ie? sin of 8 ad _ ve A aA ee ee alt 7 , lg lie! at , Ee . * rf im - 7 =e oy i . / ft 4 iy Lays tas ; is) vas, 4 om FOREIGN GYPSY SONGS. 199 THE ROMANY SONGSTRESS. FROM THE RUSSIAN GYPSY. Her temples they are aching, As if wine she had been taking ; Her tears are ever springing, Abandoned is her singing! She can neither eat nor rest With love she’s so distress’d ; At length she’s heard to say : “Oh here I cannot stay, Go saddle me my steed, To my lord I must proceed ; In his palace plenteously Both eat and drink shall I; The servants far and wide, Bidding guests shall run and ride. And when within the hall the multitude I see, [ll raise my voice anew, and sing in Romany.” 200 FOREIGN GYPSY SONGS. LERAJAL UN erajai Sinaba chibando un sermon ; Y We falta un balicho Al chindomar de aquel gao, Y lo chanelaba que los Cales ‘Lo abian nicabao ; Y penela l’erajai, “ Chaboré! Guillate a tu quer Y nicabela la peri Que tercla el balicho, Y chibela andro Una lima de tun chabort, Chabori, Una lima de tun chabort.” FOREIGN GYPSY SONGS. 201 THE FRIAR. FROM THE SPANISH GYPSY. A FRIAR Was preaching once with zeal and with fire ; And a butcher of the town Had lost a flitch of bacon ; And well the friar knew That the Gypsies it had taken ; So suddenly he shouted: “‘ Gypsy, ho! Hie home, and from the pot Take the flitch of bacon out, The flitch good and fat, And in its place throw A clout, a dingy clout of thy brat, Of thy brat, A clout, a dingy clout of thy brat.” 202 FOREIGN GYPSY SONGS. MALBRUN. CuHALo Malbrun chingarar, Birandon, birandén, birandéra ! Chalé Malbrnn chingarar; No sé bus trutera! No sé bus trutera! La romi que le caméla, Birandon, birandon, birandéra ! La romi que le camela Muy curepenada esta, Muy curepenada esta. S’ardéla 4 la felicha, Birand6n, birandon, birandéra ! S’ardéla a la felicha Y baribu dur dica, Y baribu dur dica. Dica abillar su burno, Birand6n, birandén, birandéra ! Dica abillar su burno, En ropa callarda, En ropa callarda. “ Burno, lacho quirbo ; Birandon, birandon, birandéra ! Burno, lacho quiribé, FOREIGN GYPSY SONGS. (ue nuevas has dinar ? Que nuevas has dinar ?” ‘Las nuevas que io térelo, Birandén, ,birand6n, birandéra ! Las nuevas que io terélo T'e haran orobar, Te haran orobar. ‘“‘Meréd Malbrun mi eray, Birandon, birandon, birandéra ! Meré Malbrun mi eray Mero en la chinga, Mero en la chinga. “Sinaba 4 su entierro, Birandon, birandon, birandéra! Sinaba 4 su entierro La plastani sara, La plastani sara. “Seis guapos jundunares, Birandon, birandon, birandéra ! Seis guapos jundunares Le llevaron cabanar, Le llevaron cabanar. “ Delante de la jestari, Birandén, birandén, birandéra ! Delante de la jestari Chalo el sacrista, Chalé ei sacrista. 203 204 FOREIGN GYPSY SONGS. ‘“‘ Hl sacrista delante, Birandén, birand6én, birandéra ! El sacrista delante, Y el errajai pala, Y el errajai pala. “ Al majaro ortalame, Birandin, birandén, birandéra ! Al majaro ortalame Le llevaron cabanar, Le llevaron cabanar. “ Y oté le cabanaron Birandon, birandén, birandéra ! Y oté le cabanaron No dur de la burda, No dur de la burda. “ Y opré de la jestari Birandon, birandén, birandéra! Guillabéla un chilindréte ; Soba en paz, soba! Soba en paz, soba ! FOREIGN GYPSY SONGS. 205 MALBROUK. FROM THE SPANISH GYPSY VERSION. MALBROUK is gone to the wars, Birrandén, birrandén, birrandéra ! Malbrouk is gone to the wars ; He'll never return no more! He'll never return no more! His lady-love and darling, Birrandén, birrandén, birrandéra His lady-love and darling His absence doth deplore, His absence doth deplore. To the turret’s top she mounted, Birrandén, birrandén, birrandéra ! To the turret’s top she mounted And look’d till her eyes were sore, And look’d till her eyes were sore. She saw his squire a-coming, Birrandon, birrandén, birrandéra! She saw his squire a-coming ; And a mourning suit he wore, And a mourning suit he wore. “‘O squire, my trusty fellow ; Birrandoén, birrandén, birrandéra ! O squire, my trusty fellow, FOREIGN GYPSY SONGS. What news of my soldier poor? What news of my: soldier poor ?” “The news which I bring thee, lady, Birrandén, birrandon, birrandéra ! The news which I bring thee, lady, Will cause thy tears to shower, Will cause thy tears to shower. “ Malbrouk my master’s fallen, Birrandon, birrandon, birrandéra! Malbrouk my master’s fallen, He fell on the fields of gore, He fell on the fields of gore. “ His funeral attended, Birrand6n, birrandén, birrandéra ! His funeral attended The whole reg’mental corps, The whole reg’mental corps. “ Six neat and proper soldiers, Birrandon, birrandoén, birrandéra ! Six neat and proper soldiers To the grave my master bore, To the grave my master bore. “ The parson follow’d the coffin, Birrandén, birrandén, birrandéra ! The parson follow’d the coffin, And the sexton walk’d before, And the sexton walk’d before. FOREIGN GYPSY SONGS. 207 “They buried him in the churchyard, Birrandén, birrandén, birrandéra! They buried him in the churchyard, Not far from the church’s door, Not far from the church’s door. “* And there above his coffin, Birrand6n, birrandon, birrandéra ! There sings a little swallow: Sleep there, thy toils are o’er, Sleep there, thy toils are o’er.” B * ae - : | ,* : a a ; ks THE ENGLISH GYPSIES. s « = AS : : = . c > . . . E. : : 4 ‘ as i f H } y ee - i . t ' : ; ae . : ' ’ 4 ; re \ . ‘ s \ : a ’ ¥ i 1 ee ’ A q . . Fe ‘ : aS 210 THE ENGLISH GYPSIES. TUGNEY BESHOR. THE Romany Chals Should jin so bute — As the Puro Beng To scape of gueros And wafo gorgies The wafodupen. They lels our gryor, They lels our wardoes, And wusts us then Drey starripenes To mer of pishens And buklipen. Cauna volélan Muley pappins Pawdle the len Men artavavam Of gorgio foky The wafodupen. Ley teero sollohanloinus opreylis ! THE ENGLISH GYPSIES. ala SORROWFUL YEARS. THE wit and the skill Of the Father of ill, Who’s clever indeed, If they would hope With their foes to cope The Romany need. Our horses they take, Our waggons they break, And us they fling Into horrid cells, Where hunger dwells And vermin sting. When the dead swallow The fly shall follow Across the river, O we'll forget The wrongs we’ve met, But till then O never: Brother, of that be certain. Pp 2 JAW: THE ENGLISH GYPSIES. THE English Gypsies call themselves Romany Chals and Romany Chies, that is, Sons and Daughters of Rome. When speaking to each other, they say “ Pal” and “ Pen ;” that is, brother and sister. All people not of their own blood they | call “ Gorgios,” or Gentiles. Gypsies first made their appearance in England about the year 1480. They probably came from France, where tribes of the race had long been wandering about under the names of Bohemians and Egyptians. In England they pursued the same kind of merripen * which they and their ancestors had pursued on the Continent. They roamed about in bands, consisting of thirty, sixty, or ninety families, with light, creaking carts, drawn by horses and donkeys, encamping at night in the spots they deemed con- venient. The women told fortunes at the castle of the baron and the cottage of the yeoman ; filched gold and silver coins from the counters of money-changers; caused the death of hogs in farmyards, by means of a stuff called drab or drao, which affects the brain, but does not cor- rupt the blood; and subsequently begged, and generally obtained, the carcases. The men plied * “ Merripen” means life, and likewise death; even as “ col- lico” means to-morrow as well as yesterday, and perhaps ‘“sorlo,” evening as well as morning. THE ENGLISH GYPSIES. JAS tinkering and brasiery, now and then stole horses, and occasionally ventured upon highway robbery. The writer has here placed the Chies before the Chals, because, as he has frequently had occasion to observe, the Gypsy women are by far more remarkable beings than the men. It is the Chi and not the Chal who has caused the name of Gypsy to be a sound awaking wonder, awe, and curiosity in every part of the civilised world. Not that there have never been remarkable men of the Gypsy race both abroad and at home. Duke Michael, as he was called, the leader of the great Gypsy horde which suddenly made its appearance in Germany at the beginning of the fifteenth cen- tury, was no doubt a remarkable man; the Gitano Conde, whom Martin del Rio met at Toledo a hundred years afterwards, who seemed to speak all languages, and to be perfectly acquainted with the politics of all the Courts of Hurope, must cer- tainly have beena remarkable man; so, no doubt, here at home was Boswell; so undoubtedly was Cooper, called by the gentlemen of the Fives Court—poor fellows! they are all gone now—the “‘ wonderful little Gypsy ;”—but upon the whole the poetry, the sorcery, the devilry, if you please to call it so, are vastly on the side of the women. How blank and inanimate is the countenance of the Gypsy man, even when trying to pass off a 214 THE ENGLISH GYPSIES. foundered donkey as a flying dromedary, in com- parison with that of the female Romany, peering over the wall of a par-yard at a jolly hog! Sar shin Sinfye ? Koshto divvus, Romany Chi! So shan tute kairing acoi ? Sinfye, Sinfye! how do you do? Daughter of Rome, good day to you! What are you thinking here to do? After a time the evil practices of the Gypsies began to be noised about, and terrible laws were enacted against people “using the manner of Egyptians ”’—Chies were scourged by dozens, Chals hung by scores. Throughout the reign of Eliza- beth there was a terrible persecution of the Gypsy race; far less, however, on account of the crimes which they actually committed, than from a sus- picion which was entertained that they harboured amidst their companies priests and emissaries of Rome, who had come to England for the purpose of sowing sedition and inducing the people to embrace again the old discarded superstition. This suspicion, however, was entirely without foundation. The Gypsies call each other brother and sister, and are not in the habit of admitting to their fellowship people of a different blood and THE ENGLISH GYPSIES. DANG: with whom they have no sympathy. There was, however, a description of wandering people at that time, even as there is at present, with whom the priests, who are described as going about, sometimes disguised as serving-men, sometimes as broken soldiers, sometimes as shipwrecked mariners, would experience no difficulty in asso- ciating, and with whom, in all probability, they occasionally did associate—the people called in Acts of Parliament sturdy beggars and vagrants, in the old cant language Abraham men, and in the modern Pikers. These people have fre- quently been confounded with the Gypsies, but are in reality a distinct race, though they resemble the latter in some points. They roam about like the Gypsies, and, like them, have a kind of secret language. But the Gypsies are a people of Oriental origin, whilst the Abrahamites are the scurf of the English body corporate. The lan- guage of the Gypsies is a real language, more like the Sanscrit than any other language in the world; whereas the speech of the Abrahamites is a horrid jargon, composed for the most part of low English words used in an allegorical sense—a jargon in which astick is called a crack ; a hostess, a rum necklace ; a bar-maid, a dolly-mort ; brandy, rum booze; a constable, a horny. But enough of these Pikers, these Abrahamites. Sufficient to 216 THE ENGLISH GYPSIES. observe that if the disguised priests associated with wandering companies it must have been with these people, who admit anybody to their society, and not with the highly exclusive race the Gypsies. For nearly a century and a half after the death of Elizabeth the Gypsies seem to have been left tolerably to themselves, for the laws are almost silent respecting them. Chies, no doubt, were occasionally scourged for cauring, that is filching gold and silver coins, and Chals hung for gry- choring, that is horse-stealing ; but those are little incidents not much regarded in Gypsy merripen. They probably lived a life during the above period tolerably satisfactory to themselves —they are not an ambitious people, and there is no word for glory in their language—but next to - nothing is known respecting them. ee" E r . iy ¥ 1 : : ‘ 4 te OL Lon ‘ j ; i vd a ) ; % ‘ . ‘ap i 7 - Sew ; oo . r » ' : ) ee i y * va ' ¥ oe ri * oY a ie Poh, { i 7 ii r ug \ ’ ' . r . ' U ‘ ’ iY t LU + A ; ay yi % pia i ny * ; . Lr A o Gi - \ ' : RYLEY BOSVIL. Rytey Bosvit was a native of Yorkshire, a country where, as the Gypsies say, “there’s a deadly sight of Bosvils.’ He was above ‘the middle height, exceedingly strong and active, and one of the best riders in Yorkshire, which is saying a great deal. He was a thorough Gypsy, versed in all the arts of the old race, had two wives, never went to church, and considered that when aman died he was cast into the earth, and there was an end of him. He frequently used to say that if any of his people became Gorgios he would kill them. He had a sister of the name of Clara, a nice, delicate, interesting girl, about fourteen years younger than himself, who travelled about with an aunt; this girl was noticed by a respect- able Christian family, who, taking a great interest in her, persuaded her to come and live with them. She was instructed by them in the rudiments of the Christian religion, appeared delighted with her new friends, and promised never to leave U2 292 RYLEY BOSVIL. them. After the lapse of about six weeks there was a knock at the door; a dark man stood be- fore it who said he wanted Clara. Clara went out trembling, had some discourse with the man in an unknown tongue, and shortly returned in tears, and said that she must go. ‘“ What for?” said her friends. “ Did you not promise to stay with us?” “I did so,” said the girl, weeping more bitterly; “but that man is my brother, who says I must go with him, and what he says must be.” So with her brother she departed, and her Christian friends never saw her again. What became of her? Was she made away with? Many thought she was, but she was not. Ryley put her into a light cart, drawn by “a flying pony,” and hurried her across England, even to distant Norfolk, where he left her, after threaten- ing her, with three Gypsy women, who were de- voted to him. With these women the writer found her one night encamped in a dark wood, and had much discourse with her, both on Chris- tian and Egyptian matters. She was very melan- choly, bitterly regretted having been compelled to quit her Christian friends, and said that she wished she had never been a Gypsy. The writer, after exhorting her to keep a firm grip of her Christianity, departed, and did not see her again for nearly a quarter of a century, when he met RYLEY BOSVIL. 298 her on Epsom Downs, on the Derby day when the terrible horse Gladiateur beat all the English steeds. She was then very much changed, very much changed indeed, appearing as a full-blown Kegyptian matron, with two very handsome daugh- ters flaringly dressed in genuine Gypsy fashion, to whom she was giving motherly counsels as to the best means to hok and dukker the gentlefolks. All her Christianity she appeared to have flung to the dogs, for when the writer spoke to her on that very important subject, she made no answer save by an indescribable Gypsy look. On other matters she was communicative enough, telling the writer, amongst other things, that since he saw her she had been twice married, and both times very well, for that her first husband, by whom she had the two daughters whom the writer ‘ kept staring at,” was a man every inch of hirn, and her second, who was then on the Downs grinding knives with a machine he had, though he had not much manhood, being nearly eighty years old, had something much better, namely, a mint of money, which she hoped shortly to have in her own possession. Ryley, like most of the Bosvils, was a tinker by profession; but, though a tinker, he was amazingly proud and haughty of heart. His grand ambition was to be a great man among his 294 RYLEY BOSVIL. people, a Gypsy King. ‘To this end he furnished himself with clothes made after the costliest Gypsy fashion: the two hinder buttons of the coat, which was of thick blue cloth, were broad gold pieces of Spain, generally called ounces; the fore-buttons were English “spaded guineas ;” the buttons of the waistcoat were half-guineas, and those of the collar and the wrists of his shirt were seven-shilling gold pieces. In this coat he would frequently make his appearance on a magnificent horse, whose hoofs, like those of the steed of a Turkish sultan, were cased in shoes of silver. How did he support such expense? it may be asked. Partly by driving a trade in wafodu luvvu, coun- terfeit coin, with which he was supplied by certain honest tradespeople of Brummagem ; partly and principally by large sums of money which he re- ceived from his two wives, and which they obtained by the practice of certain arts peculiar to Gypsy females. One of his wives was a truly remarkable woman: she was of the Petulengro or Smith tribe ; her Christian name, if Christian name it can be called, was Xuri or Shuri, and from her exceeding smartness and cleverness she was generally called by the Gypsies Yocky Shuri,—that is, smart or clever Shuri, yocky being a Gypsy word, signi- fying ‘clever.’ She could dukker, that is tell fortunes, to perfection, by which alone during RYLEY BOSVIL. 2.95 the racing season she could make a hundred pounds a month. She was good at the big hok, that is, at mducing people to put money into her hands, in the hope of its being multiplied; and, oh dear! how she could caur, that is, filch gold rings and trinkets from jewellers’ cases ; the kind of thing which the Spanish Gypsy women call ustilar pastesas, filching with the hands. Frequently she would disappear, and travel about England, and Scotland too, dukkering, hokking, and caur- ing, and after the lapse of a month return and deliver to her husband, like a true and faithful wife, the proceeds of her industry. So no wonder that the Flying Tinker, as he was called, was enabled to cut a grand appearance. He was very fond of hunting, and would frequently join the field in regular hunting costume, save and except that, instead of the leather hunting-cap, he wore one of fur with a gold band around it, to denote that though he mixed with Gorgios he was still a Romany-chal. Thus equipped and mounted on a capital hunter, whenever he encountered a Gypsy encampment he would invariably dash through it, doing all the harm he could, in order, as he said, to let the juggals know that he was their king and had a right to do what he pleased with his own. Things went on swimmingly for a great many years, but, as prosperity does not con- 296 - RYLEY BOSVIL. tinue for ever, his dark hour came at last. His - wives got into trouble in one or two expeditions, and his dealings in wafodu luvyw began to be noised about. Moreover, by his grand airs and violent proceedings he had incurred the hatred of both Gorgios and Gypsies, particularly of the latter, some of whom he had ridden over and lamed for life. One day he addressed his two Wives :— “The Gorgios seek to hang me, The Gypsies seek to kill me: This country we must leave.” Shure. “Tl jaw with you to heaven, Pll jaw with you to Yaudors— But not if Lura goes.” Lura. “ T'll jaw with you to heaven, And to the wicked country, Though Shuri goeth too.” Ryley. “Since [ must choose betwixt ye, My choice is Yocky Shuri, Though Lura loves me best.” RYLEY BOSVIL. 297 Tura. “ My blackest curse on Shuri! Oh, Ryley, Pll not curse you, But you will never thrive.” She then took her departure with her cart and donkey, and Ryley remained with Shuri. Ryley. “T’ve chosen now betwixt ye; Your wish you now have gotten, But for it you shall smart.” He then struck her with his fist on the cheek, and broke her jaw-bone. Shuri uttered no cry or complaint, only mumbled :— “ Although with broken jawbone, Pll follow thee, my Ryley, Since Lura doesn’t jal.” Thereupon Ryley and Yocky Shuri left York- shire, and wended their way to London, where they took up their abode in the Gypsyry near the Shepherd’s Bush. Shuri went about dukkering and hokking, but not with the spirit of former times, for she was not quite so young as she had been, and her jaw, which was never properly cured, pained her much. Ryley went about tinkering, but he was unacquainted with London and its neighbourhood, and did not get much to 298 RYLEY BOSVIL. do. An old Gypsy-man, who was driving about a little cart filled with skewers, saw him standing in a state of perplexity at a place where four roads met. ¥ ++ Old Gypsy. “‘ Methinks I see a brother ! Who’s your father ? Who’s your mother ? And what may be your name ?” Ryley. ‘A Bosvil was my father ; A Bosvil was my mother ; And Ryley is my name.” Old Gypsy. “Tm glad to see you, brother! I am a Kaulo Camlo.* What service can I do ?” fiyley. “Tm jawing petulengring,f{ But do not know the country ; Perhaps you'll show me round.” Old Gypsy. “Tl sikker tute, prala ! I’m bikkening esconyor ; } Av, av along with me!” A Black Lovel. t+ Going a-tinkering. I'll show you about, brother! I’m selling skewers. RYLEY BOSVIL. 299 The old Gypsy showed Ryley about the country for a week or two, and Ryley formed a kind of connection, and did a little business. He, however, displayed little or no energy, was gloomy and dissatisfied, and frequently said that his heart was broken since he had left Yorkshire. Shuri did her best to cheer him, but without effect. Once, when she bade him get up and exert himself, he said that if he did it would be of little use, and asked her whether she did not remember the parting prophecy of his other wife that he would never thrive. At the end of about two years he ceased going his rounds, and did nothing but smoke under the arches of the rail- road, and loiter about beershops. At length he became very weak, and took to his bed; doctors were called in by his faithful Shuri, but there is no remedy for a bruised spirit. A Methodist came and asked him, “ What was his hope?” “My hope,” said he, “is that when I am dead I shall be put into the ground, and my wife and children will weep over me.” And such, it may be ob- served, is the last hope of every genuine Gypsy. His hope was gratified. Shuri and his children, of whom he had three—two stout young fellows and a girl—gave him a magnificent funeral, and screamed, shouted, and wept over his grave. 300 RYLEY BOSVIUL. They then returned to the “Arches,” not to divide his property amongst them, and to quarrel about the division, according to Christian prac- tice, but to destroy it. They killed his swift pony—still swift, though twenty-seven years of age—and buried it deep in the ground, without depriving it of its skin. They then broke the caravan and cart to pieces, making of the frag- ments a fire, on which they threw his bedding, carpets, curtains, blankets, and everything which would burn. Finally, they dashed his mirrors, china, and crockery to pieces, hacked his metal pots, dishes and what-not to bits, and flung the whole on the blazing pile. Such was the life, such the death, and such were the funeral obsequies of Ryley Bosvil, a Gypsy who will be long remem- bered amongst the English Romany for his buttons, his two wives, his grand airs, and last, and not least, for having been the composer of various stanzas in the Gypsy tongue, which have plenty of force, if nothing else, to recommend them. One of these, addressed to Yocky Shuri, runs as follows :— “Tuley the Can I kokkeney cam Like my rinkeny Yocky Shuri: Oprey the chongor in ratti I'd cour For my rinkeny Yocky Shuri!” RYLEY BOSVIL. 301 Which may be thus rendered : Beneath the bright sun, there is none, there is none, I love like my Yocky Shuri: With the greatest delight, in blood I would fight To the knees for my Yocky Shuri! . KIRK YETHOLM. i. > KIRK YETHOLM. THERE are two Yetholms—Town Yetholm and Kirk Yetholm. ‘They stand at the distance of about a quarter of a mile from each other, and between them is a valley, down which runs a small stream, called the Beaumont River, crossed by a little stone bridge. Of the town there is not much to be said. It is a long, straggling place, on the road between Morbuttle and Kelso, from which latter place it is distant about seven miles. It is comparatively modern, and sprang up when the Kirk town began to fall into decay. Kirk Yetholm derives the first part of its name from the church, which serves for a place of worship not only for the inhabitants of the place, but for those of the town also. The present church is modern, having been built on the site of the old kirk, which was pulled down in the early part of the present century, and which had been witness of many a strange event connected with the wars between England and Scotland. It stands at a 306 KIRK YETHOLM. the entrance of the place, on the left hand as you turn to the village after ascending the steep road which leads from the bridge. ‘The place occupies the lower portion of a hill, a spur of the Cheviot range, behind which is another hill, much higher, rising to an altitude of at least 900 feet. At one time it was surrounded by a stone wall, and at the farther end is a gateway overlooking a road leading to the English border, from which Kirk Yetholm is distant only a mile and a quarter; the boundary of the two kingdoms being here a small brook called Shorton Burn, on the English side of which is a village of harmless, simple Northumbrians, differing strangely in appearance, manner, and language from the people who live within a stone’s throw of them on the other side. Kirk Yetholm is a small place, but with a re- markable look. It consists of a street, termina- ting in what is called a green, with houses on three sides, but open on the fourth, or right side to the mountain, towards which quarter it is erassy and steep. Most of the houses are ancient, and are built of rude stone. By far the most remarkable-looking house is a large and dilapi- dated building, which has much the appearance of a ruinous Spanish posada or venta. There is not much life in the place, and you may stand ten minutes where the street opens upon the KIRK YETHOLM. 307 square without seeing any other human beings than two or three women seated at the house doors, or a ragged, bare-headed boy or two lying on the grass on the upper side of the Green. It came to pass that late one Saturday afternoon, at the commencement of August, in the year 1866, I was standing where the street opens on this Green, or imperfect square. My eyes were fixed on the dilapidated house, the appearance of which awakened in my mind all kinds of odd ideas. “A strange-looking place,” said I to myself at last, “and I shouldn’t wonder if strange things have been done in it.” “Come to see the Gypsy toon, sir?” said a voice not far from me, I turned, and saw standing within two yards of me a woman about forty years of age, of decent appearance, though without either cap or bonnet. “A Gypsy town, is it?” said I; “why, I thought it had been Kirk Yetholm.” Woman.—* Weel, sir, if itis Kirk Yetholm, must it not be a Gypsy toon? Has not Kirk Yetholm ever been a Gypsy toon?” | Myself—* My good woman, ‘ever’ is a long term, and Kirk Yetholm must have been Kirk Yetholm long before there were Gypsies in Scot- land, or England either.” Woman.—* Weel, sir, your honour may be bel 308 KIRK YETHOLM. right, and I dare say is; for your honour seems to be a learned gentleman. Certain, however, it is that Kirk Yetholm has been a Gypsy toon beyond the memory of man.” Myself.—* You do not seem to be a Gypsy.” Woman.—*Seem to be a Gypsy! Na, na, sir! Iam the bairn of decent parents, and belong not to Kirk Yetholm, but to Haddington.” Myself. — “And what brought you to Kirk Yetholm ?” Woman.—< Oh, my ain little bit of business brought me to Kirk Yetholm, sir.” Myself.—< Which is no business of mine. That’s a queer-looking house there.” Woman.—* The house that your honour was looking at so attentively when I first spoke to ye? A queer-looking house it is, and a queer kind of man once lived in it. Does your honour know who once lived in that house ?” Myself—* No. How should 1? Tam here for the first time, and after taking a bite and sup at the inn at the town over yonder I strolled hither.” Woman.—“ Does your honour come from far ?” Myself.—< A good way. I came from Strand- raar, the farthest part of Galloway, where I landed from a ship which brought me from Treland.” KIRK YETHOLM. 309 Woman.—* And what may have brought your honour into these parts-?” Myself.—“«Oh, my ain wee bit of business brought me into these parts.” “ Which wee bit of business is nae business of mine,” said the woman, smiling. “ Weel, your honour is quite right to keep your ain counsel ; for, as your honour weel kens, if a person canna keep his ain counsel it is nae likely that any other body will keep it for him. But to gae back to the queer house, and the queer man that once ‘habited it. That man, your honour, was old Will Faa.” Myself.—* Old Will Faa!” Woman.—“* Yes. Old Will Faa, the Gypsy- king, smuggler, and innkeeper; he lived in that inn.” Myself-—“< Oh, then that house has been an inn?” Woman.—* It still is an inn, and has always been an inn; and though it has such an eerie look it is sometimes lively enough, more especially after the Gypsies have returned from their sum- mer excursions in the country. It’s a roaring place then. They spend most of their sleight- o’-hand gains in that house.” Myself.—“ Is the house still kept by a Faa?” Woman.—* No, sir; there are no Faa’s to keep 310 KIRK YETHOLM. it. The name is clean dead in the land, though there is still some of the blood remaining.” Myself—*I really should like to see some of the blood.” Woman.—< Weel, sir, you can do that without much difficulty; there are not many Gypsies just now in Kirk Yetholm; but the one who they say has more of his blood than any one else happens to behere. I mean his grandbairn—his daughter’s daughter ; she whom they ca’ the ‘Gypsy Queen o Yetholm,’ and whom they lead about the toon once a year, mounted on a cuddy, with a tin crown on her head, with much shouting, and with mony a barbaric ceremony.” Myself.—* I really should like to see her.” Woman.—“ Weel, sir, there’s a woman behind you, seated at the doorway, who can get your honour not only the sight of her, but the speech of her, for she is one of the race, and a relation of hers; and, to tell ye the truth, she has had her eye upon your honour for some time past, expecting to be asked about the queen, for scarcely anybody comes to Yetholm but goes to see the queen ; and some gae so far as to say that they merely crowned her queen in hopes of bringing grist to the Gypsy mill.” | I thanked the woman, and was about to turn away, in order to address myself to the other KIRK YETHOLM. 811 woman seatel on the step, when my obliging friend said, “I beg your pardon, sir, but before ye go I wish to caution you, when you get to the speech of the queen, not to put any speerings to her about a certain tongue or dialect which they say the Gypsies have. All the Gypsies become glum and dour as soon as they are spoken to about their language, and particularly the queen. The queen might say something uncivil to your honour, should you ask her questions about her language.” Myself—<« Oh, then the Gypsies of Yetholm have a language of their own?” Woman.—“I canna say, sir; I dinna ken whether they have or not; I have been at Yet- holm several years, about my ain wee bit o’ busi- ness, and never heard them utter a word that was not either English or broad Scotch. Some people say that they have a language of their ain, and others say that they have nane, and moreover that, though they call themselves Gypsies, they are far less Gypsy than Irish, a great deal of Irish being mixed in their veins with a very little of the much more respectable Gypsy blood. It may be sae, or it may be not; perhaps your honour will find out. That’s the woman, sir, just behind ye at the door. Gud e’en. I maun noo gang and boil my cup o’ tay.” , 312 KIRK YETHOLM. To the woman at the door I now betook myself, She was seated on the threshold, and employed in knitting. She was dressed in white, and had a cap on her head, from which depended a couple of ribbons, one on each side. As I drew near she looked up. She had a full, round, smooth face, and her complexion was brown, or rather olive, a hue which contrasted with that of her eyes, which were blue. “There is something gypsy in that face,” said I to myself, as I looked at her; “but I don’t like those eyes.” “A fine evening,” said I to her at last. “Yes, sir,” said the woman, with very little of the Scotch accent; “it is a fine evening. Come to see the town ?” “Yes,” said 1; “I am come tosee the town. A nice little town it seems.” “‘ And I suppose come to see the Gypsies, too,” said the woman, with a half smile. “Well,” said I, ‘to be frank with you, I came to see the Gypsies. You are not one, I suppose ?”’ “Indeed I am,” said the woman, rather sharply, “and who shall say that Iam not, seeing that I am a relation of old Will Faa, the man whom the woman from Haddington was speaking to you about; for I heard. her mention his name ?” KIRK YETHOLM. 313 “Then,” said I, “you must be related to her whom they call the Gypsy queen.” “T am, indeed, sir. Would you wish to see her ?.” “By all means,” said I. “I should wish very much to see the Gypsy queen.” “Then I will show you to her, sir; many gentlefolks from England come to see the Gypsy queen of Yetholm.: Follow me, sir!” She got up, and, without laying down her knitting-work, went round the corner, and began to ascend the hill. She was strongly made, and was rather above the middle height. She con- ducted me to a small house, some little way up the hill. As we were going, I said to her, * As you are a Gypsy, I suppose you have no objection to a coro of koshto levinor ?”* She stopped her knitting for a moment, and appeared to consider, and then resuming it, she said hesitatingly, “No, sir, no! \None at all! That is, not exactly !” “She is no true Gypsy, after all,” said I to myself. We went through a little garden to the door of the house, which stood ajar. She pushed it open, and looked in; then, turning round, she said: “She is not here, sir; but she is close at hand. * A cup of good ale. 314 KIRK YETHOLM. Wait here till I go and fetch her.” She went to a house a little farther up the hill, and I presently saw her returning with another female, of slighter build, lower in stature, and apparently much older. She came towards me with much smiling, smirking, and nodding, which I returned with as much smiling and nodding as if I had known her for threescore years. She motioned me with her hand to enter the house. I did so. The other woman returned down the hill, and the queen of the Gypsies entering, and shutting the door, con- fronted me on the floor, and said, in a rather musical, but slightly faltering voice :— “N ow, sir, in what can I oblige you?” ? Thereupon, letting the umbrella fall, which I invariably carry about with me in my journey- ings, I flung my arms three times up into the air, and in an exceedingly disagreeable voice, owing to a cold which I had had for some time, and which I had caught amongst the lakes of Lough- maben, whilst hunting after Gypsies whom I could not find, I exclaimed :— : “Sossi your nav? Pukker mande tute’s nav! Shan tu a mumpli-mushi, or a tatchi Romany?” Which, interpreted into Gorgio, runs thus :— “What is your name? ‘Tell me your name! Are you a mumping woman, or a true Gypsy ?” The woman appeared frightened, and for some KIRK YETHOLM. pal time said nothing, but only stared at me. At length, recovering herself, she exclaimed, in an angry tone, “Why do you talk to me in that manner, and in that gibberish? I don’t under- stand a word of it.” “ Gibberish!” said I; “it is no gibberish ; it is Zingarrijib, Romany rokrapen, real Gypsy of the old order.” « Whatever it is,’ said the woman, “it’s of no use speaking it to me. If you want to speak to me, you must speak English or Scotch.” “ Why, they told me as how yer were a Gypsy,” said I. “And they told you -the truth,” said the woman ; “I am a Gypsy, and a real one; I am not ashamed of my blood.” “If yer were a Gyptian,” said I, “ yer would be able to speak Gyptian ; but yer can’t, not a word.” “At any rate,” said the woman, “I can speak English, which is more than you can. Why, your way of speaking is that of the lowest vagrants of the roads.” ‘Oh, I have two or three ways of speaking English,” said I; “and when I speaks to low wagram folks, I speaks in a low wagram manner.” “Not very civil,” said the woman. “A pretty Gypsy!” said I; “why, Ill be bound you don’t know what a churi is!” 316 KIRK YETHOLM. The woman gave me a sharp, look; but made no reply. “ A pretty queen of the Gypsies!” said 1; “why, she doesn’t know the meaning of churi!” “Doesn't she?” said the woman, evidently nettled ; “doesn’t she ?” “Why, do you mean to say that you know the meaning of churi?” “Why of course I do,” said the woman. “Hardly, my good lady,” said I; “hardly; a churt to you is merely a chure.” “A churt is a knife,” said the woman, in a tone of defiance; “a churz is a knife.” “Oh it is,’ said I; “and yet you tried to per- suade me that you had no peculiar language of your own, and only knew English and Scotch: churi is a word of the language in which I spoke to you at first, Zingarrijib, or Gypsy language; and since you know that word, I make no doubt that you know others, and in fact can speak Gypsy. Come; let us have a little confidential discourse together.” The woman stood for some time, as if in reflec- tion, and at length said: “Sir, before having any particular discourse with you, I wish to put a few questions to you, in order to gather from your answers whether it is safe to talk to you on Gypsy matters. You pretend to understand the Gypsy KIRK YETHOLM. ol7 language: if I find you do not, I will hold no further discourse with you; and the sooner you take yourself off the better. If I find you do, I will talk with you as long as you like. What do you call that ?”’—and she pointed to the fire. “Speaking Gyptianly ?” said I. The woman nodded. “ Whoy, I calls that yog.” “Hm,” said the woman; “and the dog out there ?” “ Gyptian-loike ?” said I. ‘* Yes.” “ Whoy, I calls that a guggal.” “ And the hat on your head ?” “Well, I have two words for that: a stawry and a stadge.” : “ Stadge,’ said the woman, “we call it here. Now what’s a gun ?” “There is no Gypsy in England,” said I, “ can tell you the word for a gun; at least the proper word, which is lost. They have a word—yag- engro—but that is a made-up word signifying a fire-thing.” “Then you don’t know the word for a gun,” said the Gypsy ! “Oh dear me! Yes,” said I; “the genuine Gypsy word for a gun is puschea. But I did not pick up that word in England, but in Hungary, 318 KIRK YETHOLM, where the Gypsies retain their language better than in England: puschca is the proper word for a gun, and not yag-engro, which may mean a fire- shovel, tongs, poker, or anything connected with fire, quite as well as a gun.” “ Puschea is the word sure enough,” said the Gypsy. “I thought I should have caught you there; and now I have but one more question to ask you, and when I have done so, you may as well go; for lam quite sure you cannot answer it. What is Nokkum ?” “ Nokkum,” said 1; nokkum 2?” “Aye,” said the Gypsy; “what is Nokkum ? Our people here, besides their common name of Romany, have a private name for themselves, which is Nokkum or Nokkums. Why do the children of the Caungri Foros call themselves Nokkums ?” “ Nokkum,” said I; “ nokkum! The root of nokkum rust be nok, which signifieth a nose.” “A—h!” said the Gypsy,” slowly drawing out the monosyllable, as if in astonishment. “Yes,” said I; “the root of nokkum is assuredly nok, and I have no doubt that your people call themselves Nokkum, because they are in the habit of nosing the Gorgios. Nokkwms means Nosems.” “Sit down, sir,” said the Gypsy, handing me a chair. “Iam now ready to talk to you as much KIRK YETHOLM. 319 as you please about Nokkwm words and matters, for I see there is no danger. But I tell you frankly that had I not found that you knew as much as, or a great deal more than, myself, not a hundred pounds, nor indeed all the money in Berwick, should have induced me to hold dis- course with you about the words and matters of the Brown children of Kirk Yetholm.” I sat down in the chair which she handed me; she sat down in another, and we were presently in deep discourse about matters Nokkum. We first began to talk about words, and I soon found that her knowledge of Romany was anything but extensive; far less so, indeed, than that of the commonest English Gypsy woman, for whenever I addressed her in regular Gypsy sentences, and not in poggado jib, or broken language, she would giggle and say I was too deep for her. I should say that the sum total of her vocabulary barely amounted to three hundred words. Hven of these there were several which were not pure Gypsy words: that is, belonging to the speech which the ancient Zingary brought with them to Britain. Some of her bastard Gypsy words belonged to the cant or allegorical jargon of thieves, who, in order to disguise their real meaning, call one thing by the name of another. for example, she called a shilling a ‘hog, a word belonging to the old 320 KIRK YETHOLM. English cant dialect, instead of calling it by the genuine Gypsy term ¢ringurush, the literal mean- ing of which is three groats. Then she, called a donkey ‘asal,’ and a stone ‘cloch, which words are neither cant nor Gypsy, but Irish or Gaelic. I incurred her vehement indignation by saying they were Gaelic. She contradicted me flatly, and said that whatever else I might know I was quite wrong there; for that neither she nor any- one of her people would condescend to speak anything so low as Gaelic, or indeed, if they pos- sibly could avoid it, to have anything to do with the poverty-stricken creatures who used it. It is a singular fact that, though principally owing to the magic writings of Walter Scott, the Highland Gael and Gaelic have obtained the highest repu- tation in every other part of the world, they are held in the Lowlands in very considerable con- tempt. There the Highlander, elsewhere “the bold Gael with sword and buckler,” is the type of poverty and wretchedness ; and his language, elsewhere “the fine old Gaelic, the speech of Adam and Eve in Paradise,” is the designation of every unintelligible jargon. But not to digress. On my expressing to the Gypsy queen my regret that she was unable to hold with me a regular conversation in Romany, she said that no one re- eretted it more than herself, but that there was KIRK YETHOLM. 321 no help for it; and that slight as I might consider her knowledge of Romany to be, it was far greater than that of any other Gypsy on the Border, or indeed in the whole of Scotland ; and that as for the Nokkums, there was not one on the Green who was acquainted with half-a-dozen words of Romany, though the few words they had they prized high enough, and would rather part with their heart’s blood than communicate them to a stranger. “Unless,” said I, “they found the stranger knew more than themselves.” “That would make no difference with them,” said the queen, “though it has made a great deal of difference with me. They would merely turn up their noses, and say they had no Gaelic. You would not find them so communicative as me; the Nokkums, in general, are a dour set, sir.” Before quitting the subject of language, it is but right to say that though she did not know much Gypsy, and used cant and Gaelic terms, she possessed several words unknown to the Enelish Romany, but which are of the true Gypsy order. Amongst them was the word ¢errehz, or tirahat, signifying shoes or boots, which I had heard in Spain and in the east of Europe. Another was calches, a Wallachian word signifying trousers. Moreover, she gave the right pronunciation to the word which denotes a man not of Gypsy blood, i 822 KIRK YETHOLM. saying gajo, and not gorgio, as the English Gypsies do. After all, her knowledge of Gentle Romany was not altogether to be sneezed at. Ceasing to talk to her about words, I began to question her about the Faas. She said that a great number of the Faas had come in the old time to Yetholm, and settled down there, and that her own forefathers had always been the principal people among them. I asked her if she remem- bered her grandfather, old Will Faa, and received for answer that she remembered him very well, and that I put her very much in mind of him, being a tall, lusty man, like himself, and having a skellymg look with the left eye, just like him. I asked her if she had not seen queer folks at Yetholm in her grandfather’s time. — “Dosta dosta,’ said she; ‘ plenty, plenty of queer folk I saw at Yetholm in my grandfather’s time, and plenty I have seen since, and not the least queer is he who is now asking me questions.” “ Did you ever see Piper Allen?” said I; “he was a ereat friend of your grandfather's.” “I never saw him,” she replied; “but I have often heard of him. He married one of our people.” “He did so,” said I, “and the marriage-feast was held on the Green just behind us. He got a good, clever wife, and she got a bad, rascally husband. One night, after taking an affectionate farewell of KIRK YETHOLM. 328 her, he left her on an expedition, with plenty of money in his pocket, which he had obtained from her, and which she had procured by her dexterity. After going about four miles he be- thought himself that she had still some money, and returning crept up to the room in which she lay asleep, and stole her pocket, in which were eight guineas; then slunk away, and never re- turned, leaving her in poverty, from which she never recovered.” I then mentioned Madge Gor- don, at one time the Gypsy Queen of the Border, who used, magnificently dressed, to ride about on a pony shod with silver, inquiring if she had ever seen her. She said she had frequently seen — Madge Faa, for that was her name, and not Gordon; but that when she knew her, all her magnificence, beauty, and royalty had left her; for she was then a poor decrepit, poverty-stricken old woman, just able with a pipkin in her hand to totter to the well on the Green for water. Then with much nodding, winking, and skellying, I began to talk about Drabbing bawlor, dooking gryes, cauring, and hokking, and asked if them’ere things were ever done by the Nokkums: and received for answer that she believed such things were occasionally done, not by the Nokkums, but by other Gypsies, with whom her people had no connection. y 2 324 KIRK YETHOLM. Observing her eyeing me rather suspiciously, I changed the subject; asking her if she had travelled much about. She told me she had, and that she had visited most parts of Scotland, and seen a good bit of the northern part of England. “Did you travel alone?” said I. “No,” said she; “when I travelled in Scotland, I was with some of my own people, and in England with the Lees and Bosvils.” “ Old acquaintances of mine,” said I ; “ why only the other day I was with them at Fairlop Fair, in the Wesh.” “JT frequently heard them talk of Epping Forest,” said the Gypsy; “a nice place, is it not?” “The loveliest forest in the world!” said I. “ Not equal to what it was, but still the loveliest forest in the world, and the pleasantest, especially in summer; for then it is thronged with grand company, and nightingales, and cuckoos, and Romany chals and chies. As for Romany-chals there is not such a place for them in the whole world as the Forest. Them that wants to see Romany-chals should go to the Forest, especially to the Bald-faced Hind on the hill above Fairlop, on the day of Fairlop Fair. It is their trysting- place, as you would say, and there they musters from all parts of England, and there they whoops, KIRK YETHOLM. O20 dances, and plays; keeping some order neverthe- less, because the Rye of all the Romans is in the house, seated behind the door :— ‘Romany Chalor Anglo the wuddur Mistos are boshing ; Mande beshello Innar the wuddur Shooning the boshipen.’ 29 Roman lads Before the door Bravely fiddle ; Here I sit Within the door - And hear them fiddle. “T wish I knew as much Romany as you, sir,” said the Gypsy. “ Why I never heard so much Romany before in all my life.” She was rather a small woman, apparently between sixty and seventy, with intelligent and rather delicate features. Her complexion was darker than that of the other female; but she had the same kind of blue eyes. The room in which we were seated was rather long, and toler- ably high. In the wall, on the side which fronted the windows which looked out upon the Green, were oblong holes for beds, like those seen in the 326 KIRK YETHOLM. sides of a cabin. ‘There was nothing of squalor or poverty about the place. Wishing to know her age, I inquired of her what it was. She looked angry, and said she did not know. : “Are you forty-nine?” said I, with a terrible voice, and a yet more terrible look. “More,” said she, with a smile; “lam sixty- eight.” There was something of the gentlewoman in her: on my offering her money she refused to take it, saying that she did not want it, and it was with the utmost difficulty that I persuaded her to accept a trifle, with which, she said, she would buy herself some tea. But withal there was hukni in her, and by that she proved her Gypsy blood. I asked her if she would be at home on the following day, for in that case I would call and have some more talk with her, and received for answer that she should be at home and delighted to see me. On going, how- ever, on the following day, which was Sunday, I found the garden-gate locked and the window- shutters up, plainly denoting that there was no- body at home. Seeing some men lying on the hill, a little way above, who appeared to be observing me, I went up to them for the purpose of making in- KIRK YETHOLM. 327 quiries. ‘They were all young men, and decently though coarsely dressed. None wore the Scottish cap or bonnet, but all the hat of England. Their countenances were rather dark, but had nothing of the vivacious expression observable in the Gypsy face, but much of the dogged, sullen look which makes the countenances of the generality of the Irish who inhabit London and some other of the large English towns so disagreeable. They were lying on their bellies, occasionally kicking their heels into the air. I greeted them civilly, but received no salutation in return. “Ts so-and-so at home?” said I. “No,” said one, who, though seemingly the eldest of the party, could not have been more than three-and-twenty years of age; “she is gone out.” “Ts she gone far?” said I. “No,” said the speaker, kicking up his heels. “ Where is she gone to?” “ She’s gone to Cauldstrame.” “ How far is that ?” “ Just thirteen miles.” “ Will she be at home to-day ?” “She may, or she may not.” “Are you of her people?” said I. “ No—h,” said the fellow, slowly drawing out the word. 028 KIRK YETHOLM. “Can you speak Irish ? ” “ No—h; I can’t speak Irish,” said the fellow, tossing up his nose, and then flinging up his heels. “You know what arragod is?” said I. “No—h!” “But you know what ruppy is?” said 1; and thereupon I winked and nodded. “ No—h;” and then up went the nose, and subsequently the heels. “Good day;” said I; and turned away. I received no counter-salutation; but, as I went down the hill, there was none of the shouting and laughter which generally follow a discomfited party. They were a hard, sullen, cautious set, in whom a few drops of Gypsy blood were mixed with some Scottish and a much larger quantity of low Irish. Between them and their queen a striking difference was observable. In her there was both fun and cordiality; in them not the slightest appearance of either.. What was the cause of this disparity ? The reason was they were neither the children nor the erandchildren of real rypsies, but only the remote descendants, whereas she was the granddaughter of two genuine Gyp- sies, old Will Faa and his wife, whose daughter was her mother; so that she might be considered all but a thorough Gypsy; for being by her KIRK YETHOLM. 329 mother’s side a Gypsy, she was of course much more so than she would have been had she sprung from a Gypsy father and a Gentile mother; the qualities of a child, both mental and bodily, de- pending much less on the father than on the mother. Had her father been a Faa, instead of her mother, I should probably never have heard from her lips a single word of Romany, but found her as sullen and inductile as the Nokkums on the _ Green, whom it was of little more use questioning than so many stones. Nevertheless she had played me the hukna, eth that was not very agreeable; so I determined to be even with her, and by some means or other to see her again. Hearing that on the next day, which was Monday, a great fair was to be held in the neighbourhood of Kelso, I determined: to go thither, knowing that the likeliest place in all the world to find a Gypsy at is a fair; so I went to the grand cattle-fair of St. George, held near the ruined castle of Roxburgh, in a lovely meadow not far from the junction of the Teviot and Tweed; and there sure enough, on my third saunter up and down, I met my Gypsy. We met’ in the most cordial manner—smirks and giggling on her side, smiles and nodding on mine. She was dressed respectably in black, and was holding the arm of a stout wench, dressed in garments of Z 330 KIRK YETHOLM. the same colour, who she said was her niece, and arinkent raklt. The girl whom she called ran- kent or handsome, but whom I did not consider handsome, had much of the appearance of one of those Irish girls, born in London, whom one so frequently sees carrying milk-pails about the streets of the metropolis. By the bye, how is it that the children born in England of Irish parents account themselves Irish and not English, whilst the children born in Ireland of English parents call themselves not English but Irish? Is it because there is ten times more nationality in Trish blood than in English? After the smirks, smiles, and salutations were over, I inquired whether there were many Gypsies in the fair, “Plenty,” said she, ‘plenty Tates, Andersons, Reeds, and many, others. That woman is an Anderson—yonder is a Tate,” said she, pointing to two common-looking females. “Have they much Romany?” said I. “No,” said she, “scarcely a word.” “IthinkIshall go and speak to them,” said I, “Don’t,” said she; “they would only be uncivil to you. Moreover they have nothing of that kind—on the word of a rawnie they have ~ not.” I looked in her eyes; there was nothing of hukna in them, so I shook her by the hand; and through rain and mist, for the day was a wretched -f { | | i, ve ° cs TSLLLUTLOL { ee aA Le fi 6 GU * KIRK YETHOLM. rnd | one, trudged away to Dryburgh to pay my respects at the tomb of Walter Scott, a man with whose principles I have no sympathy, but for whose genius I have always entertained the most intense admiration. YHE END. LONDON: PRINTED BY WM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS, Te; % les (4 aN "10 L7U rie) “Oog pie — = a ae i, Fh pte ea ee = oat Vel 7 ak = “> aie...” \ + ——' ~~ 7 ae 4 ) a , 2 ; hd My 4 J * =! : \ — . ] p d é ’ ; ; ; P