GUDLO XXX. THE GIPSY AND HIS TWO MASTERS.
“Savo’s tute’s rye?” putched a ryas mush of a Rommany chal. “I’ve dui ryas,” pooked the Rommany chal: “Duvel’s the yeck an’ beng’s the waver. Mandy kairs booti for the beng till I’ve lelled my yeckora habben, an’ pallers mi Duvel pauli ajaw.”
TRANSLATION.
“Who is your master?” asked a gentleman’s servant of a Gipsy. “I’ve two masters,” said the Gipsy: “God is the one, and the devil is the other. I work for the devil till I have got my dinner (one-o’clock food), and after that follow the Lord.”
GUDLO XXXI. THE LITTLE GIPSY BOY AT THE SILVERSMITH’S.
A bitti chavo jalled adrée the boro gav pāsh his dàdas, an’ they hatched taller the hev of a ruppenomengro’s buddika sār pordo o’ kushti-dickin covvas. “O dàdas,” shelled the tikno chavo, “what a boro choroméngro dovo mush must be to a’ lelled so boot adusta rooys an’ horas!”
A tácho cóvva often dicks sār a hokkeny (huckeny) cóvva; an dovo’s sim of a tácho mush, but a juva often dicks tácho when she isn’t.
TRANSLATION.
A little boy went to the great village (i.e., London) with his father, and they stopped before the window of a silversmith’s shop all full of pretty things. “O father,” cried the small boy, “what a great thief that man must be to have got so many spoons and watches!”
A true thing often looks like a false one; and the same is true (and that’s same) of a true man, but a girl often looks right when she is not.