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which remain unpublished is one of the Transyl-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.
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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.
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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.
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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.”
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THE ENGLISH GYPSIES.
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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"
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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
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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
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