good boy oor Kornies

good boy

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

maw da

Soortgelyke frases

boy was it good
ass o ev teg

voorbeelde

good boy
maw da

good boy
/ maw da / / /

Good luck to the plough boys wherever they be.
Sowyn dhe'n febyon aradar plepynag may vons'y.

boy was it good
/ ass o ev teg / / /

In this letter extract from 1872, J Hoyle writes from Arizona: “I should think...Mrs Brock... could do much better in the United States where wages is much better than in England then there is good public schools it cost you nothing to give your children schooling and also there many opportunity for Boys to make good wages after school”.
Y'n devyn ma a lyther a 1872, y skrif J Hoyle dhyworth Arizona: "Dell grysav ... gwell via Mrs Brock ... y'n Statys Unys mayth yw goberow pol'ta gwell es yn Pow Sows. Ynwedh yma skolyow poblek da: skolyans rag dha fleghes yw heb kost, hag yma meur a jonsyow da rag Mebyon dhe gemeres gober da wosa an skol."

My father-in -law worked in the garage on his old car. His niece, Hilda, heard Breton spoken in Morlaix. Good afternoon to you all. Will you speak Cornish with us? The boy pulled the rope but he was too weak. He cannot do that work any more. Where are my pens, the black one and the red one? I wish to buy mackerel. We are approaching the town centre.
Ow hwegron a oberas y'n karrji war y garr koth. Y nith, Hylda, a glewas Bretonek kewsys yn Montroules. Dohajydh da dhywgh hwi oll. A vynnowgh hwi kewsel kernewek genen? An maw a dennas an lovan mes re wann o ev. Ny yll ev gul an ober na namoy. Ple'ma ow fluvennow, an huni dhu ha'n huni rudh? Yma hwans dhymm a brena brithili. Yth eson ow nesa dhe gres an dre.

As I was a walking one morning in may I heard a young damsel the words did she say, "Of all the calling whatever they may be, No life is like the plough-boy in the merry month of may" The lark in the morning awakes from her nest And mounts the white air with the dew on her breast Oh, the lark and the plough-boy together can sing And return to her nest in the evening One morning she mounted so high, oh, so high And looked around her. and at the dark sky In the morning she was singing and thus was her lay There is no life like the plough-boy's in the sweet month of May When his day's work is over that he hath to do So then to a fair or a wake will he go And there he will whistle and there he will sing And then to his fair love a ribbon will he bring Good luck to the plough-boys wherever they be They will take a sweet maiden to sit on the knee They'll drink the brown beer, they will whistle and sing Oh the plough-boy's more happy than noble or king
Del en vy ow kerdhes unn myttin yn mys Me Y klewys moren yowynk, neb geryow yn-medh hy "A bup galwas yn bys kekemmys may vo, A'n araderor nyns yw par yn mys Me ytho" An awhesyth a dhyfun a'y nythva y'n myttyn Y bron gans gluthennow war ayr gwyn del yskyn An awhesyth ha'n mow aradar keskana 'yllons y Dh'y nythva yn gorthewer mos war-dhelergh a-wra hy Yth yskynnys unn myttin mar ughel, ogh, mar ughel Y vyrys orth an le adro hag orth an ebren tewl Yth esa hy ow kana yn myttin oll a-dro Nyns yw bewnans avel araderor un mys Me ytho Pan yw dewedhys oll hwel a'n jeth yma dhodho Dhe fer po enkledhyns martesen yth ello Y'n keth le y hwra kana hag ena y hwyban Wosa henna dh'y gares hweg a dhre ev ryban Sowyn dhe maw aradar pypynag may vons'y War'n glyn, neb mowes hweg kemeres a hwrons i Hwybana a wrons ha kana, owth eva korev gell Moy lowen yw'n tus ma es myghtern po'n gos ughel

Having seen the glow at the window, I decided the best way to check it out was to exit from the small pedestrian gate on the West side of the cemetery (which faced Princes Park and was, presumably, unguarded) and then to circle back to the far side of the gatekeeper’s house. In this way, I would avoid having to go near the main (vehicular) gate to the South. This was immediately adjacent to machine gun emplacement and was, presumably, still guarded. My plan, to that extent, was sound. The Western gate was indeed unguarded but the main entrance had a guard seated on a chair and was armed with a sub- machine gun. As I circled around the far side of the gatekeeper’s house, this would have proven quite daunting – except for the fact that I could hear the guard’s resonant snoring long before I could see him. The guard, at least, thought the zombie terror had passed. This gave me time to observe without fear of being observed. There was no barrier at the gate – any vehicle could simply drive through if its driver chose to. And there was a number of vehicles still parked about 75m or so inside the gates – a reasonable distance from the sleeping guard: a good thing if one felt like trying to commandeer one of them. There were three jeeps and a khaki-coloured Holden utility. Did they have their keys in the ignition or would one have to spend precious time to ‘hot-wire’ them? (Not that a boy with a good Catholic upbringing would know about such things!) That would remain to be seen. I turned my attention to the gatekeeper’s residence itself. On the veranda, stood six pairs of boots, all neatly lined up in military fashion. Did this mean there was now a total of seven soldiers in the squad (assuming the guard still had his boots on)? Well, I decided it meant that there were no less than seven – maybe not everyone thought that their boots needed air. Also, there was a hat-rack, under cover, on the veranda and, on it, hung three slouch-hats, typical of the Australian Army.
Wosa my dhe weles an golow der an fenestri, my a dhetermyas an gwella fordh rag y hwithra. My a wrussa gasa an ynkleudhva der an yet vyghan a’n howlsedhes – esa a-dal Park an Pennsevik hag, yn hwirhaval, anwithys. Ena, my a gerdhsa yn kylgh ledan rag drehedhes du arall chi an porther. Y’n fordh na, my a allsa avoydya owth omneshe dhe borth a-dhyghowbarth an ynkleudhva – mayth esa gwrys devnydh herwydh usadow gans kerri-tan. Dres henna, yth esa an porth ma ogas dhe’n ynworrans rag jynn-setha poes (a via gwithys hwath, yn sur). Y provas ow thowl bos gwiw. Yn hwir, anwithys o an yet a’n Howlsedhes mes yth esa gwithyas a’y esedh a-rag an chyf entrans, dhe’n dyghowbarth, ha ganso gonn isel-jynn. Ha my omgylghyes a-dro dhe du arall chi an porther, an presens ma a withyas ha’y wonn a allsa bos poran kudynnyasek. Byttegyns, my a ylli klywes ronkow, meur aga dhasson, an gwithyas termyn hir kyns my dhe alloes y weles. An gwithyas ma, dhe’n lyha, a brederis nag esa na fella browagh-zombi. Hag ytho yth esa termyn dhymm rag observya - heb own a’m bos observyes. Nyns esa lett vyth orth an porth ma – oll an kerri-tan a allsa yn sempel tremena mar tewisas aga lywyoron gul yndella. Hag yth esa lies karr parkyes hwath a- dro dhe 75 m a-berth y’n yetys – pellder lowr dhiworth an gwithyas ow koska. Da o henna mar mynnys assaya sesya onan anedha. Yth esa tri jip ha les-karr Holden, kaki y liw. Esa dhedha dialhwedhyow y’ga florenn-enowans – po a via res spena termyn presyous rag aga gul tredanhes fast? (Ny wodhvia mab da, gans adhyskans stroeth ha katholik, a-dro dhe’n taklow a’n par na, heb mar!) Y trigsa henna bos gwelys. My a dreylyas ow aspians dhe drigva an porther hy honan. Yth esa ow sevel, war an borthva, dew ha dew, dewdhek botasenn – oll anedha yn aray breselek. A styrya hemma bos lemmyn seyth souder, yn sommenn, y’n para? (My a dheseva an gwithyas dhe vos hwath gans y votasennow.) Wel, my a erviras y stryryas henna nag esa le ages seyth souder - parhapp ny gryssa oll anedha bos edhomm a ayr dh’aga botasennow. Ynwedh, yth esa ynwedh a-berth y’n veranda, ha gwithys ganso, rastell-hattys ha warnodho tri hatt ledan medhel, herwydh usadow an Lu Ostralek.

well-behaved a. good da; or wise, sensible für WG, JB, Lh. +; fin; phr. da y omdhegyans; da y condük or mut. c > g; or humble üvel WJ; doth /doːθ/; more w. comp. dôttha BM; fürra; phr. he is a w. boy maw da ew a y conversacyon; be more w. (wiser) next time bedhes fürra nessa; the class is w. omdhegyans an class ew da; the children were very w. da o omdhegyans a'n flehes
well-behaved a. good da; or wise, sensible für WG, JB, Lh. +; fin; phr. da y omdhegyans; da y condük or mut. c > g; or humble üvel WJ; doth /doːθ/; more w. comp. dôttha BM; fürra; phr. he is a w. boy maw da ew a y conversacyon; be more w. (wiser) next time bedhes fürra nessa; the class is w. omdhegyans an class ew da; the children were very w. da o omdhegyans a'n flehes

My dog is lame. Your coat is dirty, I think. His house is not new. It is not his new house. Is her friend Myrna then? Our room in the hotel was too small. Your father is my friend. Their children are ill, I hear. Our association is a good one. My food was not ready. Your bus is gone now. This tree is dead. Its leaves are brown. Wasn't there a single green leaf left? No! When I was a boy. my family was poor, certainly. When there was a building there, there wasn't enough light. When he was not rich, he was happy.
Ow hi yw kloppek. Dha gota yw plos, dell dybav. Nyns yw nowydhy ji. Nyns yw ev y ji nowydh. Yw hy howethas Myrna ytho? Agan stevell y'n ostel o re vyghan. Agas tas yw ow howeth. Aga fleghes yw klav, dell glewav. Agan kesva yw onan dha. Nyns o ow boes parys. Dha gyttrin yw gyllys lemmyn. An wydhenn ma yw marow. Hy del yw gell. A nyns esa delenn las gesys? Nag esa! Pan en maw, ow theylu o boghesek, sur. Pan esa drehevyans ena nyns esa golow lowr yn agan chi. Pan nag o kevoethek, lowen o ev.

I had not had a cold shower for years. I had not had a shower of any description since Day One. David wasn’t the only one who stank. Having filled the watering can, I stood in the corner near the tap – over the small drain – and, lifting the can above my head, played the sprinkling water over my grimy, sweaty and bloody body. I shivered from the shock of the cold water but, almost immediately, felt refreshed and reinvigorated. The muck that was caked on my skin and in my hair fell away – thanks to some fragrant soap that I was using liberally – and that, I presumed, had also been ‘liberated’ from the gatekeeper’s residence. David’s dead eyes observed the cleansing of my body with no obvious emotion. In the back of my mind, I knew that I had to get David cleaned up if ever I were to be able to pass him off as a living soul – and effect an escape from the ‘war- zone’. How much resistance to this would he put up when I insisted on this? Having dried myself – using an equally ‘liberated’ towel – I stood looking at David. He returned the stare. (He was, at least, exceptionally good at that.) “David?” I said. “Your turn now – you’re a very dirty little boy!” He seemed to like being babied by me. Maybe it evoked some distant memory of his childhood, when Mum used to scold us for being such ‘grubs’ (which we were). I can’t be sure, of course, but, in any event, he rose to his feet and approached. He stood in front of me like a small child who could not undo his buttons. (In fact, I think he may have lost so much dexterity that this task was now beyond him.) I started to undo his blood-stained rags and he did not offer a protest. Soon, he stood naked and, like a small child, waited obediently for his bath. I gently bathed his greying skin, patched with tape the odd tear in his flesh that he had suffered as a result of recent carnal activities – and then shed a tear over what had become of my handsome brother.
Ny gemmersen kowas yeyn a-dhia nebes blydhynnyow. Ny gemmersen kowas vyth a-dhia Dydh Onan. Nyns o Davydh an huni unnik gans fler euthyk. Lenwys an kafas dowr, yth esen a’m sav y’n gornell ogas dhe’n tapp – hag a- ugh an sygerva byghan. Ha my drehevys an kafas a-ugh ow fenn, my a skoellyas an dowr ow stifa war ow horf goesek, meur y lastedhes ha’y hwys. Skruth an dowr yeyn a’m gwrug degrena mes, ogas a-dhistowgh, my a omglywo bos refreshyes ha dasnerthys. Y koedhas dhe-ves an most re via kalesys war ow kroghen hag y’m blew – gras dhe nebes sebon, hweg y ethenn, may hwren devnydh meur anodho. An sebon ma re via ‘delivrys’ ynwedh dhiworth chi an porther, dell grysen. Yth esa dewlagas marow Davydh owth attendya glanheans a’m korf, heb movyans vyth apert. Y’n delergh ow brys, my a wodhya bos res dhe Dhavydh bos glanhes mar pe possybyl dhe omwul y vos enev byw – ha diank ‘greugys an vresel’. Pygemmys defens a via dhiworto dh’y gowas pan deris vy? Ow kul devnydh a dowell (‘delivrys’ yn kepar maner), my a omsyghas ha sevel ena ow mires orth Davydh. Ev a settyas y dremmynn warnav. (Ev a ylli, dhe’n lyha, gul henna pur dha.) “’Dhavydh?” yn-medhav. “Dha dro jy yth yw lemmyn – meppik pur blos osta!” Yth heveli bos da ganso pan y’n dyghtyis kepar ha baban. Martesen, y trosa dh’y vrys kov hanter-ankevys a’y flogoleth. Y hwre Mamm agan deraylya drefenn agan bos ‘kontron’ (ha henn o gwir). Ny allav bos sur, heb mar, mes, yn neb kas, ev a sevis yn-bann hag omneshe dhymm. Yth esa a’y sav a-dheragov vy kepar ha flogh byghan na ylli diswul y votonyow. (Yn hwir, possybyl o y kollsa kemmys sleyghneth yn y diwdhorn ma na ylli na fella gul an oberenn ma.) My a dhallathas diswul y bilennow re via nammys yn town gans goes ha nyns esa krodhvol vyth dhiworto ev. Yn skon, ev a sevi noeth a-dheragov ha, kepar ha fleghik, gortos yn unn wostydh rag y dronkys. Yn tov, my a badhyas y groghen loes ha kloutya gans tapa nebes skwardyow yn y geher godhevys a-gynsow drefenn y vywderyow karnal. Ena, my a dhellos dager drefenn tenkys ow broder teg.

When I was a little boy, so my mother told me Away, haul away, haul away, Joe That if I did not kiss the girls, my lips would grow all mouldy Away, haul away, we'll haul away, Joe Away, haul away, the good ship now is rolling Away, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe Away, haul away, let’s haul for better weather Away, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe Once I had an English girl, but she got fat and smelly Away, haul away, haul away, Joe Now I’ve got a Cornish girl with a baby in her belly Away, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe Away, haul away, the good ship now is rolling Away, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe Away, haul away, let’s haul for better weather Away, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe St Piran was our patron saint, he preached of Christianity Away, haul away, haul away, Joe He floated granite on the sea and thought nothing of gravity Away, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe Away, haul away, the good ship now is rolling Away, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe Away, haul away, let’s haul for better weather Away, haul away, we’ll haul away, Joe
Pan en vy meppik vyghan, mamm ‘leveris dhe vy Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, Joe Mar ny ymmis dhe’n mowysi, ow gweusow ‘wrussa losi Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, ni ‘hal dhe-ves, Joe Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, ‘ma’n gorhel da ow rolya Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves ni ‘hal dhe-ves, Joe Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, gwren halya rag kewer well Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves ni ‘hal dhe–ves, Joe Kyns ‘th esa dhymm mowes sows, mes y teuth tew ha flerys Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, Joe Lemmyn ‘ma dhymm mowes Kernow gans flogh parys bos genys Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, ni ‘hal dhe-ves, Joe Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, ‘ma’n gorhel da ow rolya Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves ni ‘hal dhe-ves, Joe Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, gwren halya rag kewer well Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves ni ‘hal dhe–ves, Joe Sen Peran o ‘gan sans tasek, ev a dhyskas Kristonieth Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, Joe Ev ‘neuvellas growyn war’n mor ha ny brederas a ravedh Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, ni ‘hal dhe-ves, Joe Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, ‘ma’n gorhel da ow rolya Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves ni ‘hal dhe-ves, Joe Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves, gwren halya rag kewer well Dhe-ves, hal dhe-ves ni ‘hal dhe–ves, Joe

Actually, although the entrance was badly collapsed and barely passable (Boofa and Chooka had real trouble squeezing through) the walls of the tunnel seemed to be in surprisingly good shape. The wooden props had clearly rotted out and many of them lay about on the floor of the tunnel in a random fashion – but the walls themselves showed little sign of crumbling. The cool, damp rock seemed pretty firm. We wandered about for a while – one of the ‘mummy’s boys’ had a panic attack and, I confess, I felt first touch of claustrophobia, too. But I was okay and, after half an hour or so, before we actually lost anyone in what turned out to be more of a labyrinth than a mere tunnel, the squad emerged back into the daylight to resume our pointless wanderings. Had I ever intended to go back? No, but that’s where David and I were now headed. I had estimated it would take David and me approximately an hour to find the tunnel. That was how long it had taken my squad to march out of the bush once my squad’s ‘rescuers’ had arrived. But they, unlike me, had known what they were doing. So, this time round, it ended up taking a little longer than I had expected. By midday next day, I was exhausted, having been stumbling about in the bush for hours and, apparently, no closer to our goal. I sat down on the hard earth and wept a little. (Okay! I was fuckin’ tired and still pretty sick! Don’t forget that I could barely walk when I’d been picked up at the infirmary and the adrenalin rush was, by this time, long gone.) David was moaning – of course. I fell asleep in the sun – but, on this occasion (unlike my unplanned snooze in the Castlemaine Gardens), it did not lead to dire consequences. I’d say it was an hour or so later when I awoke. I could hear David groaning – not a surprise – but it was in the distance and now there was an urgency about his groaning. I followed the groaning for, maybe, two hundred metres up the hill upon which I had been sleeping. David was standing (in triumph?) at the mouth of the tunnel, grinning and roaring.
Yn hwir, kynth o an porth fyllys yn tien ha namna yllyn ni y dremena, (y fia meur a galetter dhe Boofa ha dhe Chooka kyns i dhe alloes omstroetha rag entra ynno) yth o gwallow an bal yn shap marthys da. Yn kler, an jistys o leythys yn tien hag yth esa meur anedha ow gorwedha hwymm-hwamm oll a-dro war leur an gowfordh. Byttegyns, nyns esa sin vyth, po ogas, a vrywans y’n gwallow aga honan. Yth heveli bos poran krev an karn yeyn ha glyb. Ni a wandras oll a-dro dres termyn nebes hir – onan yntra’n ‘vebyon-vammik’ eth ha bos ownekhes ha, dres henna, my a omglywas ynwedh tamm a glosown. Mes da lowr en ha, wosa neb hanter-our ha kyns o kellys nebonan y’n milhentall ma (yn hwir nyns o kowfordh sempel), y tehwelas an para dhe’n golow dydh rag dasdhalleth agan gwandransow heb amkan y’n gwylvos. A bredersen vy kyns dhe dhehweles ena? Na bredersen. Byttegyns, lemmyn ow amkan o. Y kryssen y fia edhomm dhymm ha dhe Dhavydh ogas dhe’n our rag kavoes an gowfordh. Henn re via an termyn re via res dhe’m para rag kerdhes yn-mes an gwylvos wosa agan ‘sawyoryon’ dhe dhos. Byttegyns, i re wodhvia pyth esens ow kul – dihaval dhyn ni. Ytho, an prys ma, res o dhyn termyn nebes hirra ages dell waytsen. Hanter-dydh, an nessa dydh, spenys en vy wosa agan trebuchyans der an gwylvos dres lies our. Nyns esen nes vyth dh’agan amkan. My a esedhas war an leur kales hag oela nebes. (Da lowr! Euthyk skwith en ha hwath poran klav! Na wra ankevi namna yllyn kerdhes pan wrussen gasa an vedhegva – ha, dres henna, y hedhsa an adrenalyn resek y’m korf nans o termyn hir.) Yth esa Davydh ow kyni – heb mar. My a goedhas yn kosk yn-dann an howlsplann. Byttegyns, an prys ma (dihaval dhe’m kosk andowlys yn Lowarthow Kastelmayn), nyns esa sywyansow euthyk. My a goskas dres our, po ogas, dell grysav, hag y hyllyn klywes hwath kynyans Davydh – nag o marth – mes yth esa neb mall dh’y gynyans lemmyn. My a sywyas an kynyans ma dre bellder a dhew gans meter ha my kerdhys war- vann an vre may fien yn kosk. Yth esa Davydh ow sevel (meur y wormola?) ogas dhe borth an gowfordh. Yth esa ow minhwerthin, ow vedhygla.