You say you like him: in that we differs; I hates the gorgio, and would like, speaking Romanly, to mix a little poison with his waters.

And now go to Lundra, my children, I goes to Yorkshire.

Take my blessing with ye, and a little bit of a gillie to cheer your hearts with when ye are weary.

In all kinds of weather have we lived together; but now we are parted.

I goes broken-hearted--I can't keep you company; ye are no longer Rommany.