a good deal oor Kornies

a good deal

naamwoord, bywoord
en
(idiomatic) Very much; to a great extent; a lot; lots.

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myns bras

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A good Brexit deal will work for all parts of the UK.
Yth esos ta ow mires orth.langbot langbot
‘I am sorry to take leave of Master Bombadil,' said Sam. 'He's a caution and no mistake. I reckon we may go a good deal further and see naught better, nor queerer. But I won't deny I'll be glad to see this Prancing Pony he spoke of. I hope it'll be like The Green Dragon away back home! What sort of folk are they in Bree?'
Res yw dhyn mos dhe skol.langbot langbot
At first Frodo was a good deal disturbed, and wondered often what Gandalf could have heard; but his uneasiness wore off, and in the fine weather he forgot his troubles for a while. The Shire had seldom seen so fair a summer, or so rich an autumn: the trees were laden with apples, honey was dripping in the combs, and the corn was tall and full.
Res yw dhymm mos dhe’n gweli.langbot langbot
Sam sat silent and said no more. He had a good deal to think about. For one thing, there was a lot to do up in the Bag End garden, and he would have a busy day tomorrow, if the weather cleared. The grass was growing fast. But Sam had more on his mind than gardening. After a while he sighed, and got up and went out.
Yw henna bleydh?langbot langbot
Pippin laughed. ‘Well, it’s time you made it up. Especially if you are coming back to live in Buckland. Old Maggot is really a stout fellow - if you leave his mushrooms alone. Let’s get into the lane and then we shan’t be trespassing. If we meet him, I’ll do the talking. He is a friend of Merry’s, and I used to come here with him a good deal at one time.’
Ki ow mamm o Oscar.langbot langbot
‘I don’t know,’ answered Frodo. ‘I fear those Black Riders, and I am sure it is unsafe to stay in one place long, especially in a place to which it is known I was going. Also Gildor advised me not to wait. But I should very much like to see Gandalf. I could see that even Gildor was disturbed when he heard that Gandalf had never appeared. It really depends on two things. How soon could the Riders get to Bucklebury? And how soon could we get off? It will take a good deal of preparation.’
Poos yw an gweli ma.langbot langbot
‘But it does not seem that I can trust anyone,’ said Frodo. Sam looked at him unhappily. ‘It all depends on what you want,’ put in Merry. ‘You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin - to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours - closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what Gandalf has told you. We know a good deal about the Ring. We are horribly afraid - but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds.’
A wodhes ta dha vos pur deg?langbot langbot
The number of people who speak languages is constantly changing, sometimes increasing, sometimes becoming less, and Cornish is no different. The history of the language has varied a good deal as it has lost and gained new speakers. Unfortunately this article cannot go into details about the social history of the language, since it is merely an introduction to the question of the (supposed) death of Cornish. Whether or not you believe that the language died, the main thing to remember is that Cornish is alive today. It is spoken by hundreds (if not thousands) of people and every year the number it is spoken by increases. There are even speakers who have learnt it at home. And that, if you ask me, is a living language!
Res yw dhis dos tre.langbot langbot
‘Oh no!’ said Merry. ‘Don’t worry about that! The secret won’t keep for long, of course; but at present it is, I think, only known to us conspirators. After all, you must remember that we know you well, and are often with you. We can usually guess what you are thinking. I knew Bilbo, too. To tell you the truth, I had been watching you rather closely ever since he left. I thought you would go after him sooner or later; indeed I expected you to go sooner, and lately we have been very anxious. We have been terrified that you might give us the slip, and go off suddenly, all on your own like he did. Ever since this spring we have kept our eyes open, and done a good deal of planning on our own account. You are not going to escape so easily!’
Ny evav aga dowr.langbot langbot
sale (n.) (bas.) 1 a deal; transaction chyffarwerth; b quantity or amount sold gwerthaz; c selling; vending gwerthanz; d provision of goods to be available for purchase gwerth; 2 a arwerth; b event soldys; c event gwerthva
Ny wor den vyth hy hanow.langbot langbot
The writer of this letter recalled: “the Indians has given me & many more a great deal of trouble in 1850 I was mining [in California] Me & a company of seven we had good diggings paying to the man one hundred dollars a day the Red Skins come on us we had to fight them there I carried two arrows one in the Left Calf of my Leg & the others in fleshy part of my arm we keep firing all that night killing & wounding a great many the next day we was determined to kill them all or die every man of us...” This didn’t stop more settlers flocking to the west in search of precious metals. (For a full transcript search AD2183/10 on our catalogue)
Tybyans da yw, dell brederav.langbot langbot
term (n.) (bas.) 1 a period; time trank, termyn; b timester trymis, termyn, amser; c limit finweyth, fin; 2 a stipulation; agreed requirement teler, amboz; 3 word; expression term, ger; 4 in ~s of ow tuchya, long-~ persistent; secular oesel, on equal ~s kwit, on good ~s with akordyz orth, orth, akordyz, ~s conditions; deal afer, technical ~ ystyll, term
Nyns eus fleghes dhymm.langbot langbot
There were, as I’ve said, low privet hedges on both sides of the garden – leading to a small, wrought-iron gate on the street corner. A concrete pathway then led to the front door. Curiously, the gate had been secured with a chain. This did not seem to make any sense because the gate itself was low enough simply to jump over and was therefore not designed to keep intruders out. Maybe it was meant to keep pet dogs in – I don’t really know. So, why mention it at all? Well, it had obviously presented an obstacle to someone who had come to deliver a parcel to the residence. Instead of taking it to the front door, the parcel had simply been dropped by the gate and left for the residents to find later . Serendipity! Regardless of its contents, I decided the parcel was mine – and I immediately took possession of it. Having done so, I left the somnolent guard to his snoring and discreetly returned to the crypt to examine my prize. o0o I was pleased to note that David had apparently missed me. He met me at the door of the crypt and displayed what I interpreted as unusual attention towards me. However, given that he had been largely ignoring me for some days, this was not saying a great deal. “Hey, Dave,” I whispered exultantly and held the parcel high. “Santa’s been! He brought you a prezzo. You must have been a good little zombie!” He emitted an amused sort of grunt – leastwise, that’s how it seemed to me. Maybe his rudimentary brain still computed ‘Santa’ and ‘prezzo’. These concepts are, after all, deeply ingrained in the psyche of all western children. I placed the parcel on the floor. It was wrapped in several layers of stiff, brown tar-paper and tied with numerous turns of thick twine. (Ah! They don’t wrap ‘em like that anymore, do they?). There was an envelope pushed roughly under the twine but not otherwise secured to the parcel. Was it meant to go with the parcel or was it separate? I decided to put it aside in favour of watching what David would do with ‘Santa’s prezzo’.
I a wra agan kavos.langbot langbot
“You haven’t been reading the papers, my friend,” I replied. Our own troops had not long returned from the war and been demobbed. The morale of those remaining had been destroyed, firstly by what had happened to them (and what they had witnessed) in that war and, secondly, by the reception they had received upon their return home. To our great shame, our soldiers were reviled in the street and ignored by those in the government which had sent them (often as 19 year-old conscripts whose ‘number’ had come up in a public ballot.) Many were even spat upon when they returned. They had not asked to go to that war and, in most cases, had only served their country in the way that their revered fathers and grandfathers had done before them. The injustice that they suffered would not be addressed until many years later – and, even then, inadequately and too late for the many who had died (often by their own hand) in the meantime. Of importance to the zombie apocalypse that was now occurring, the Australian Army was, just then, not in prime shape to meet the challenge that unexpectedly confronted the nation. But, as it turned out, they were not so far away even then. After a time, Paul and I realised we could do no more than speculate as to what may have been happening outside Melbourne. So, the conversation turned to more immediate matters. “The folks back at the Baillieu are starving, you know,” I said. “Really starving. They’ve had nothing substantial to eat since this all began – just a few snacks from the vending machines.” “And they are not likely to get re-supplied any time soon, I’d guess,” said Paul. “But why are you concerned? They kicked you out, didn’t they?” “David and I were a package deal: kick him out and you kick me out,” I said. “And they had to kick him out, didn’t they? I hold no grudges. They are still good kids.” No argument from Paul. I continued:
Yma’n losow ow tevi.langbot langbot
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