ENGLISH GYPSY SONGS

Coin si deya, coin se dado? Pukker mande drey Romanes, Ta mande pukkeravava tute.

Rossar-mescri minri deya! Vardo-mescro minro dado! Coin se dado, coin si deya? Mande’s pukker’d tute drey Romanes; Knau pukker tute mande.

Petuiengro minro dado! Purana minri deya! Tatchey Romany si men— Mande’s pukker’d tute drey Romanes, Ta tute’s pukker’d mande.

Who’s your mother, who’s your father? Do thou answer me in Romany, And I will answer thee.

A Hearne I have for mother! A Cooper for my father! Who’s your father, who’s your mother? I have answer’d thee in Romany, Now do thou answer me.

A Smith I have for father! A Lee I have for mother! True Romans both are we— For I’ve answer’d thee in Romany, And thou hast answer’d me.

“Av, my little Romany chel! Av along with mansar! Av, my little Romany chel! Koshto si for mangue.”

“I shall lel a curapen, If I jal aley; I shall lel a curapen From my dear bebee.”

“I will jal on my chongor, Then I’ll pootch your bebee. ‘O my dear bebee, dey me your chi, For koshto si for mangue.’

“‘Since you pootch me for my chi, I will dey you lati.’” Av, my little Romany chel! We will jal to the wafu tem:

“I will chore a beti gry, And so we shall lel cappi.” “Kekko, meero mushipen, For so you would be stardo;

“But I will jal a dukkering, And so we shall lel cappi.” “Koshto, my little Romany chel! Koshto si for mangue.”

“Come along, my little gypsy girl, Come along, my little dear; Come along, my little gypsy girl— We’ll wander far and near.”

“I should get a leathering Should I with thee go; I should get a leathering From my dear aunt, I trow.”

“I’ll 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:

“I will steal a little horse, And our fortunes make thereby.” “Not so, my little gypsy boy, For then you’d swing on high;

“But I’ll a fortune-telling go, And our fortunes make thereby.” “Well said, my little gypsy girl, You counsel famously.”

“Av, my little Rumni chel, Av along with mansar; We will jal a gry-choring Pawdle across the chumba.

“I’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.”

“I’ll 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.

“’Twere ferreder that you should ker, Petuls and I should dukker, For then adrey our tanney 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.

“O kusko si to chore a gry Adrey the kaulo rarde; But ’tis not kosko to be nash’d Oprey the nashing rukie.”

“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 I’ll down upon my knee, And beg they’ll give me their little girl To be my Romadie.”

“I’ll 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.”

Dui 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 had a black Chohauniskie yack, And she slomm’d him pawdle the bori pawnee.

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.

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 I’ll kair tute miro tatcho romadi If you but pen tu come sar mande.

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.

Hokka tute mande Mande pukkra bebee Mande shauvo tute— Ava, Chi!

If to me you prove untrue, Quickly I’ll your auntie tell I’ve been over-thick with you— Yes, my girl, I will.

Penn’d the temeskoe rye to the Romany chi, As the choon was dicking prey lende dui: Rinkeny tawni, Romany rawni, Mook man choom teero gudlo mui.

Said 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.

Pawnie birks My men-engni shall be; Yackors my dudes Like ruppeney shine: Atch meery chi! Mā jal away: Perhaps I may not dick tute Kek komi.

I’d 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.

I’m jalling across the pāni— 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 pãni, So she has been the ruin of me.

I’m jalling across the pāni, A choring mas and morro, Along with a bori lubbeny, And 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Finor 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.

Coaches 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.

Gare yourselves, pralor! Mã pee kek-komi! The guero’s welling— Plastra lesti!

Up, up, brothers! Cease your revels! The Gentile’s coming— Run like devils!