ROMANY GYPSY TRAILERS

'After the races' by Beshlie

This lorry's worser'n the last! I'm all jarred up an' down an' sideways. Draughty ole cab. I wishes we were there!
How far now Chasey? The baby won't sleep, Chasey boy can't stay still two minutes together. Bide quiet!!

It'll be nice, make a change, to atch in a green lane after the A40 an' Pybush just off the roundabouts.
Look at Joe's trailer swaying about all over the road! Those single-wheel Transits ain't never no good.
You can talk! this motor's seen better times. I'm all wore out. Where's the puppy? I can't see him on the back.

He's led in the box wi' Brin, don't fret so mum. I caught all the banty chicks, every one, an' Janet 'membered your rush broom what you threw at that gaujo's ole dog. I wish that gal hadn't broke up my bike, I wants a new'un!

We'm turning down the ole road now. Plenty of grass fer Springfield, put 'im on a full chain, mind, Chasey. Look! There's a trailer roof through the trees. It's ole Black Mary! An' there's dear old Boggy an' little Pemberline.

Pull on steady now Chasey. That's Neta's new Westmornin' Star, stainless steel up to the roof, too flashy fer me!
Gooooooooon Nell. You wouldn't say that if we 'ad one. Alvis 'as seen us! Look at that nice wheaten lurcher reckon we could mate her wi' Brin?

Sam's got a good sort of coloured mare, might have a chop. An L-number plate T.K. he's come up this year!
Speak up Nell! where do you want the trailer? Pull up by Neta. Chasey. Come on, you can have a talk wi' Sam later.

Roman! Leave the pup, help unhitch. Get the spade Chasey -boy, I want it level. We don't want to look like Irishmans.
Don't put Springfields too close t' Sam's mare. Hello Alvis! tell yer dad I'll be over when we've had a cup o' tea.

We've come from Epsom. Who put the baby's pram in all that tar? Where's the pin an' 'ammer to? See you Alvis.
Get the china up Janet, afore Neta comes. Jest look at her Worcester vases! Put the new satin cushions in the window.

Nice bit o' cosh here, get the fire going Chasey-boy, or we'll never git no Sunday dinner. Kushti place this, not too wild.

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  written by Beshlie. from 'Here today and gone tomorrow' Broomsleigh Press 1978.

Copy of P6020116

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