Yeckorus a Rommany chal jālled to a boro givescroker sā’s the rye sus hawin’. And sikk’s the Rom wan’t a-dickin’, the rye all-sido pordered a kell-mallico pāsh kris, an’ del it to the Rommany chal. An’ sā’s the kris dantered adrée his gullo, he was pāsh tassered, an’ the panni welled in his yākkas. Putched the rye, “Kún’s tute ruvvin’ ajaw for?” An’ he rākkered pauli, “The kris lelled mandys bávol ajaw.” Penned the rye, “I kaum the kris’ll del tute kushti bāk.” “Parraco, rya,” penned the Rom pauli; “I’ll kommer it kairs dovo.” Sikk’s the rye bitchered his sherro, the Rommany chal loured the krissko-curro mā the ruppeny rooy, an’ kek dicked it. The waver divvus anpauli, dovo Rom jālled to the ryas baulo-tan, an’ dicked odöi a boro rikkeno baulo, an’ gillied, “I’ll dick acai if I can kair tute ruv a bitti.”
Now, rya, you must jin if you del a baulor kris adrée a pābo, he can’t shell avree or kair a gudlo for his miraben, an’ you can rikker him bissin’, or chiv him apré a wardo, an’ jāl andūrer an’ kek jin it. An’ dovo’s what the Rommany chal kaired to the baulor, pāsh the sim kris; an’ as he bissered it avree an’ pakkered it adrée a gunno, he penned shukkár adrée the baulor’s kan, “Cālico tute’s rye hatched my bavol, an’ the divvus I’ve hatched tute’s; an’ yeckorus your rye kaumed the kris would del mandy kushti bāk, and kennā it has del mengy kushtier bāk than ever he jinned.
Ryes must be sig not to kair pyass an’ trickis atop o’ choro mushis.
TRANSLATION.
Once a Gipsy went to a great farmhouse as the gentleman sat at table eating. And so soon as the Gipsy looked away, the gentleman very quietly filled a cheese-cake with mustard and gave it to the Gipsy. When the mustard bit in his throat, he was half choked, and the tears came into his eyes. The gentleman asked him, “What are you weeping for now?” And he replied, “The mustard took my breath away.” The gentleman said, “I hope the mustard will give you good luck!” “Thank you, sir,” answered the Gipsy; “I’ll take care it does” (that). As soon as the gentleman turned his head, the Gipsy stole the mustard-pot with the silver spoon, and no one saw it. The next day after, that Gipsy went to the gentleman’s pig-pen, and saw there a great fine-looking pig, and sang, “I’ll see now if I can make you weep a bit.”
Now, sir, you must know that if you give a pig mustard in an apple, he can’t cry out or squeal for his life, and you can carry him away, or throw him on a waggon, and get away, and nobody will know it. And that is what the Gipsy did to the pig, with the same mustard; and as he ran it away and put it in a bag, he whispered softly into the pig’s ear, “Yesterday your master stopped my breath, and to-day I’ve stopped yours; and once your master hoped the mustard would give me good luck, and now it has given me better luck than he ever imagined.”
Gentlemen must be careful not to make sport of and play tricks on poor men.
GUDLO XL. EXPLAINING THE ORIGIN OF A CURRENT GIPSY PROVERB OR SAYING.
Trin or shtor beshes pauli kennā yeck o’ the Petulengros dicked a boro mullo baulor adrée a bitti drum. An’ sig as he latched it, some Rommany chals welled alay an’ dicked this here Rommany chal. So Petulengro he shelled avree, “A fino baulor! saw tulloben! jāl an the sala an’ you shall have pāsh.” And they welled apopli adrée the sāla and lelled pāsh sār tacho. And ever sense dovo divvus it’s a rākkerben o’ the Rommany chals, “Sār tulloben; jāl an the sāla an’ tute shall lel your pash.”