we would have tweeted
twitsen
we would have oor Kornies
we would have
Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies
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kw
pluperfect/conditional
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If it had been any other decision, we would have been unlucky.
Drog yw genev, ny allav dha weres.langbot langbot
We hoped we would have an answer fairly soon.
Skwith ov.langbot langbot
We would have such a very good time
Na wrewgh ygeri an daras.langbot langbot
we would have
Hemm yw yey.langbot langbot
we would have
Kas yw genev ow hwor.langbot langbot
we would have
Megi difennys!langbot langbot
we would have tweeted
Yma ow skrifa lyver nowydh hevleni.langbot langbot
We hoped we would have an answer fairly soon. / No condition expressed here, so the imperfect tense is used (in this case the habitual imperfect).
Nyns yw res dhis studhya.langbot langbot
If it had been any other decision, we would have been unlucky. / Nahen stresses the last syllable. Pe (5th mutation after mar = ‘if’) is the imperfect subjunctive of bos.
Ny vynnav goslowes orthis.langbot langbot
There are many praying that he lasts long but would there be an end it would be better we would have a good price for the tin and for the pilchards from Willy Men
Nyns yw henna ki.langbot langbot
We would not have brought him to thee.
Koffi, mar pleg.langbot langbot
It would have been unthinkable just a few years ago to imagine we would have to consider which parts of our network and infrastructure in Cornwall would have to be protected from a rise in sea levels or they could be lost forever.
Tomm yw hi.langbot langbot
It would have been unthinkable just a few years ago to imagine we would have to consider which parts of our network and infrastructure in Cornwall would have to be protected from a rise in sea levels or they could be lost forever.
25 bloodh ov.englishtainment-tm-paDLK33S englishtainment-tm-paDLK33S
How quick the way in which we come to accept as our natural right, something that we would have regarded previously, a moment ago, as an impossible dream. It suddenly seemed to me the most natural thing in the world that all the girls would want to be my partner.
Komolek o de.langbot langbot
Pilate said, ``What charge do you press against him? ``If it were not that this man is false, we would not have brought him to you. he said, ``then you also condemn him by means of law. they said, ``we condemn a man even though he is a thief?!
Kuv yw an venyn deg.langbot langbot
We have small children, so I would prefer two bathrooms if possible.
Prag yfynn'ta kavos ki?langbot langbot
Have him at once we would.
Yth esov vy ow prena.langbot langbot
‘You’ll be welcome when you come,’ said Maggot. ‘But now I’ve a notion. It’s near sundown already, and we are going to have our supper; for we mostly go to bed soon after the Sun. If you and Mr. Peregrin and all could stay and have a bite with us, we would be pleased!’
Yw hemma agas gerlyver?langbot langbot
As we emerged from the DS hut we heard the hand-bell summoning us to the last lesson of the afternoon, ringing far away in the playground below. Then it stopped ringing – we would be late! As fate would have it, the last lesson was with the headmaster – a corpulent, pompous, and irascible Welshman. Still eating our cakes, we ran off downhill at top speed.
Yma'n ki ow koska y'n karr.langbot langbot
Father wears his Sunday best Mother's tired she needs a rest The kids are playing up downstairs Sister's sighing in her sleep Brother's got a date to keep He can't hang around Our house, in the middle of our street Our house, in the middle of our Our house it has a crowd There's always something happening And it's usually quite loud Our mum she's so house-proud Nothing ever slows her down And a mess is not allowed Our house, in the middle of our street Our house, in the middle of our Our house, in the middle of our street (Something tells you That you've got to get away from it) Our house, in the middle of our Father gets up late for work Mother has to iron his shirt Then she sends the kids to school Sees them off with a small kiss She's the one they're going to miss In lots of ways Our house, in the middle of our street Our house, in the middle of our I remember way back then when Everything was true and when We would have such a very good time Such a fine time Such a happy time And I remember how we'd play Simply waste the day away Then we'd say Nothing would come between us Two dreamers Father wears his Sunday best Mother's tired she needs a rest The kids are playing up downstairs Sister's sighing in her sleep Brother's got a date to keep He can't hang around Our house, in the middle of our street Our house, in the middle of our street Our house, in the middle of our street Our house, in the middle of our Our house, was our castle and our keep Our house, in the middle of our street Our house, that was where we used to sleep Our house, in the middle of our street Our house, in the middle of our street
Da yw gensi lyvrow ynwedh.langbot langbot
If you have old materials in Cornish which could be useful to the project, we would love to hear from you.
Da yw gansa avalow.langbot langbot
NORTH MELBOURNE STATION At that time, North Melbourne train station was a fairly small, in fact, very typical suburban train station. It had not yet undergone the upgrade to a multi- platform complex that we now see and was then dominated by shabby, wooden structures which hearkened back to the 19th century – all painted in a curious dappled green. (Who ever thought of such a colour scheme for Melbourne’s train stations? Maybe it was a wartime thing – camouflage?) In any event, I chose to go to a suburban station rather than the central station at Spencer Street (now grandiosely named “Southern Cross Station”). The reasons were obvious: easier access, less officialdom, smaller crowds. I wanted to slip onto the northbound train with a minimum of fuss. But, before we entered the station carpark, I still needed to get David into the coffin and screw the lid firmly down. I parked the ute in a cobbled back lane, not far from the station. Once again, there was much coaxing required – and still further time lost. If we had missed the train, we would have had to wait at the station for another three hours – and thus have been likely to be exposed as impersonators during all of that time. Furthermore, the later trains would have been more crowded and the baggage car potentially full already. So, I needed to be more than usually, shall we say, ‘firm’ with David over the issue of his getting into the coffin. His resistance reached the point where he roared in my face in his most threatening manner. This would have awoken many of the ‘locals’ except that, it seemed, many of those locals had already fallen victim to the zombie apocalypse, being so close to the epicentre of the plague. North Melbourne was almost a ghost town. Eventually, however, David complied with my wishes and climbed into the coffin, still lying in the back of the ute. As I replaced the lid, I could still hear grunts of unhappiness emanating from within. “Shut up, ya stupid zombie!” I hissed. Noises of any kind coming from inside a coffin were likely to attract unwelcome interest.
Yth esov vy ow mos tre.langbot langbot
As the truck, once again, came to rest, I think the zombies sensed an opportunity – an opportunity for a feed. There were, maybe, fifty or so of them – all youthful and obviously anxious and active. They pressed forward, ready to attack. Tough luck, guys – we’d worked this one out in advance. David got out of the truck and directed his loudest roar at them. The Earth seemed to shake once again. Since they had never experienced such a thing, that startled them and, momentarily at least, stopped them from pressing forward. This gave me sufficient time also to exit the cab and climb onto the roof of the truck. I skipped to the back and dropped down between the rear of the truck and the library doors. Opening the rear of the van – two thick swing doors – created partial protection from the zombies but we still needed to be quick because they could make their way underneath the truck’s doors. Based on what had happened when David roared at his fellows when we had left the Baillieu, I estimated that we would have a minute or two before the zombies started to press once again. I hoped I was correct. I could see the Baillieu survivors inside, observing the unfolding events. I could see Jude looking at me – and the mountains of food inside the truck. “Hey, Jude!” I yelled. “Tucker time! Open up.” The survivors got the message. The library doors were manually slid open – just wide enough for two men to get through - and part of the barricade was pushed aside. Several of the Baillieu’s wasted inmates, including Jude (“Henrietta- Maria”) emerged and hastily formed two human chains. Jude and I jumped up into the rear of the truck and feverishly passed the looser items down our respective human chains. Fresh supplies flooded into the Baillieu and I could see them piling up haphazardly inside the foyer. I could hear David still roaring at the other zombies but guessed that time was getting very short now. One against fifty – even when the one had access to a non-zombified brain – were desperately poor odds. He would soon be brushed aside by his fellows.
Yw henna ki?langbot langbot
Well, on the day that me and my ‘troops’ got horribly lost, we managed not to kill anyone with the Bren Gun. But it was a heavy beast and ‘Boofa’ – the guy who had originally been assigned to carry it – got pretty sick of lugging it about, uphill and down dale, through the thick bush. So, the Bren gun got passed around all day – from shoulder to aching shoulder. Those shoulders included those of the guy who was holding the ‘highly accurate, highly sensitive’ prismatic compass (i.e. me.) A Bren Gun is a substantial piece of metal and – objects that at magnetised are attracted to substantial pieces of metal. A compass needle is a magnetised object. So, voila! While the massive bloody Bren Gun was hanging from my shoulder, all the bearings that I read from the compass were wrong – and massively so. Why did no-one bother to tell us this would happen? Buggered if I know. The people that thought this unimportant were probably the same people that decided that a Bren Gun was a good thing for a bunch of brainless kids to play with. In any event, why am I telling you all this? Is it just another digression by an old man whose mind is wandering? No – at least, not on this particular occasion. During the course of my squad’s misguided wanderings, we came upon a very ‘cool’ place. It was somewhere that, no doubt, the designers of the navigation course would have intended we avoid by a wide margin – if it were known to them at all - since it was definitely not marked on the topographical map. The ‘cool place’ was a long tunnel, a very long tunnel, driven into the side of a hill. Its collapsed entrance was now completely hidden by vigorous re-growth forest. If we had walked ten metres to either side, we would have missed it completely. Obviously, an old, disused mine is a dangerous place – and subject to further collapse at any time. It’s liable to trap and kill anyone foolish enough to enter it. So, did I order my squad not to go into it? Yes, of course, I did! Did they pay the slightest attention to my detailed, strident and urgent warnings? No. not a bit of it. So, very soon, we were all blindly wandering about inside a 100-year-old tunnel, deep inside the hill, Bren gun, useless compass and all.
My a wayt y fynnowgh ow gweres.langbot langbot
‘We have all been scared,’ said Pippin after a pause, in which Frodo stared at the fire and did not speak. ‘You would have been, too, if you had been chased for two days by Black Riders.’
My a wayt y fynnydh ow gweres.langbot langbot
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