After the goats are gone the blackberry man comes. I like his cry best of all, it is in a melancholy minor, “More, more, chi vuol maniar le more?—more fate!” “Moors, moors, who wishes to eat moors?—ripe moors!” Moors, if you please, because they are black!
IL VENDITORE DI MORE.
“Buy a broom” is far prettier in Italian—Romanesque, I should say—than in English. At first we could not make out the words, the man seemed to be singing “O! so far away!” The notes, long drawn out, pensive, fascinating, like a sailor’s chantey, haunted us. “O! scopare, cacc’ aragni!” “O brooms, chase the spiders!” The latter are Turks’ heads on the ends of long sticks, necessary for ceilings twenty feet high like ours.
LO SCOPARO.
Nella folla del giorno nel frastuono di carrozze e veicoli questo tono minore è molto rimarchevole. [2]
VENDITORE DI PESCE.
