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Roby, John

"Traditions of Lancashire, Volume 1 (of 2)"


The crowd increased. Some luckless wight
His winnings at an end, he
Swore by his trumps, 'twas owing to
That rascally _Duende_!
La confusa griteria,
Pronto al duende incomodo,
Y al complot se aparecio
Que apenas, cuarta tenia.
This roused him from his garret, where
He heard the daily squabble;
And lo, in human form, he stands
Before the shirtless rabble!
En voz, como chirimia,
Dijoles cortes y atento
_Que habitaba el aposento_
_Donde su amo existia_.
He squeaked, "Your servant, gentlemen;
I would not thus intrude,
'Pon honour, but your conduct is
So very-very rude.
_Que en alta camara fiero,_
_Todo senor, reclamaba_
_El orden, y lo aperaba,_
_Aunque ageno de en fullero_.
"My master,--he who sits up-stairs
I mean,--no jesting, gents,--
Expects that you'll be quiet, else
He'll scold at all events."
No fue poca la sorpresa,
Del mensage y la vision;
Y aun con todo, un temeron,
Quiso de ella hacer presa.
The gamblers stared, some tumbled down,
Some gaped, some told their prayers
But one, more daring, swore, i'fack,
He'd kick the brute down-stairs!
Mas el caso se fustro,
Sin saber como ni cuando,
Pues por el ayre volando
Nuestro duende se fugo.


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