The Festival — The Gypsy Song — Piramus of Rome — The Scotchman — Gypsy Names

On the following day there was much feasting amongst the Romany chals of Mr. Petulengro’s party. Throughout the forenoon the Romany chies did scarcely anything but cook flesh, and the flesh which they cooked was swine’s flesh. About two o’clock, the chals and chies dividing themselves into various parties sat down and partook of the fare, which was partly roasted, partly sodden. I dined that day with Mr. Petulengro, and his wife and family, Ursula, Mr. and Mrs. Chikno, and Sylvester and his two children. Sylvester, it will be as well to say; was a widower, and had consequently no one to cook his victuals for him, supposing he had any, which was not always the case, Sylvester’s affairs being seldom in a prosperous state. He was noted for his bad success in trafficking, notwithstanding the many hints which he received from Jasper, under whose protection he had placed himself, even as Tawno Chikno had done, who himself, as the reader has heard on a former occasion, was anything but a wealthy subject, though he was at all times better off than Sylvester, the Lazarus of the Romany tribe.

All our party ate with a good appetite, except myself, who, feeling rather melancholy that day, had little desire to eat. I did not, like the others, partake of the pork, but got my dinner entirely off the body of a squirrel which had been shot the day before by a chal 63 of the name of Piramus, who, besides being a good shot, was celebrated for his skill in playing on the fiddle. During the dinner a horn filled with ale passed frequently around; I drank of it more than once, and felt inspirited by the draughts. The repast concluded, Sylvester and his children departed to their tent, and Mr. Petulengro, Tawno, and myself getting up, went and lay down under a shady hedge, where Mr. Petulengro, lighting his pipe, began to smoke, and where Tawno presently fell asleep. I was about to fall asleep also, when I heard the sound of music and song. Piramus was playing on the fiddle, whilst Mrs. Chikno, who had a voice of her own, was singing in tones sharp enough, but of great power, a gypsy song:

POISONING The PORKER, 64

BY MRS. CHIKNO.

To mande shoon ye Romany chals

Who besh in the pus about the yag,

I’ll pen how we drab the baulo,

I’ll pen how we drab the baulo.

We jaws to the drab-engro ker,

Trin horsworth there of drab we lels,

And when to the swety 65 back we wels

We pens we’ll drab the baulo,

We’ll have a drab at a baulo.

And then we kairs the drab opre,

And then we jaws to the farming ker,

To mang a beti habben,

A beti poggado habben.

A rinkeno baulo there we dick,

And then we pens in Romano jib;

Wust lis odoi opre ye chick,

And the baulo he will lel lis,

The baulo he will lel lis.

Coliko coliko saulo we

Apopli to the farming ker

Will wel and mang him mullo,

Will wel and mang his truppo. 66

And so we kairs, and so we kairs;

The baulo in the rarde 67 mers;

We mang him on the saulo,

And rig to the tan the baulo.

And then we toves the wendror well

Till sore the wendror iuziou se,

Till kekkeno drab’s adrey lis,

Till drab there’s kek adrey lis.

And then his truppo well we hatch, 68

Kin levinor at the kitchema,

And have a kosko habben,

A kosko Romano habben,

The boshom engro 69 kils, he kils,

The tawnie juva 70 gils, she gils

A puro Romano gillie,

Now shoon the Romano gillie.

Which song I had translated in the following manner, in my younger days for a lady’s album.

Listen to me ye Roman lads, who are seated in the straw about the

fire, and I will tell how we poison the porker, I will tell how we

poison the porker.

We go to the house of the poison monger, 71 where we buy three

pennies’ worth of bane, and when we return to our people we say, we

will poison the porker; we will try and poison the porker.

We then make up the poison, and then we take our way to the house of

the farmer, as if to beg a bit of victuals, a little broken victuals.

We see a jolly porker, and then we say in Roman language, ‘Fling the

bane yonder amongst the dirt, and the porker soon will find it, the

porker soon will find it.’

Early on the morrow, we will return to the farm house, and beg the

dead porker, the body of the dead porker.

And so we do, even so we do; the porker dieth during the night; on

the morrow we beg the porker, and carry to the tent the porker.

And then we wash the inside 72 well, till all the inside is

perfectly clean, till there’s no bane within it, not a poison grain

within it.

And then we roast the body well, send for ale to the alehouse, and

have a merry banquet, a merry Roman banquet.

The fellow with the fiddle plays, he plays; the little lassie sings,

she sings an ancient Roman ditty; now hear the Roman ditty.

SONG OF The BROKEN CHASTITY. 73

??????????????????????????????By Ursula.

Penn’d the Romany chi 74 ke laki dye

‘Miry dearie dye mi shom cambri!’ 75

‘And savo 76 kair’d tute cambri,

Miry dearie chi, miry Romany chi?’

‘O miry dye a boro rye,

A bovalo 77 rye, a gorgiko rye,

Sos 78 kistur 79 pre a pellengo grye,

’Twas yov sos kerdo man cambri.’

‘Tu tawnie vassavie lubbeny,

Tu chal 80 from miry tan abri; 81

Had a Romany chal kair’d tute cambri,

Then I had penn’d ke tute chie, 82

But tu shan a vassavie lubbeny

With gorgikie 83 rat to be cambri.’

‘There’s some kernel in those songs, brother,’ said Mr. Petulengro, when the songs and music were over.

‘Yes,’ said I, ‘they are certainly very remarkable songs. I say, Jasper, I hope you have not been drabbing baulor 84 lately.’

‘And suppose we have, brother, what then?’

‘Why, it is a very dangerous practice, to say nothing of the wickedness of it.’

‘Necessity has no law, brother.’

‘That is true,’ said I, ‘I have always said so, but you are not necessitous, and should not drab baulor.’

‘And who told you we had been drabbing baulor?’

‘Why, you have had a banquet of pork, and after the banquet Mrs. Chikno sang a song about drabbing baulor, so I naturally thought you might have lately been engaged in such a thing.’

‘Brother, you occasionally utter a word or two of common-sense. It was natural for you to suppose, after seeing that dinner of pork, and hearing that song, that we had been drabbing baulor; I will now tell you that we have not been doing so. What have you to say to that?’

‘That I am very glad of it.’

‘Had you tasted that pork, brother, you would have found that it was sweet and tasty, which balluva 85 that is drabbed can hardly be expected to be. We have no reason to drab baulor at present, we have money and credit; but necessity has no law. Our forefathers occasionally drabbed baulor, some of our people may still do such a thing, but only from compulsion.’

‘I see,’ said I, ‘and at your merry meetings you sing songs upon the compulsatory deeds of your people, alias their villainous actions; and after all, what would the stirring poetry of any nation be, but for its compulsatory deeds? Look at the poetry of Scotland, the heroic part founded almost entirely on the villainous deeds of the Scotch nation; cow-stealing, for example, which is very little better than drabbing baulor; whilst the softer part is mostly about the slips of its females among the broom, so that no upholder of Scotch poetry could censure Ursula’s song as indelicate, even if he understood it. What do you think, Jasper?’

‘I think, brother, as I before said, that o............