wooden leg oor Kornies

wooden leg

naamwoord

a prosthesis that replaces a missing leg

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

koos prenn

voorbeelde

The Sergeant vaulted into the driver’s side of the jeep and took the wheel. He took off with a chirp of tyres on concrete. The dishevelled Ingrid sat beside him and another jeep followed us. Ingrid leaned over the back of the seat and yelled at me: “We’re gonna need you for this next bit. We’re gonna try to retrieve David from the cells.” Yes! My adrenalin kicked right in. The Sergeant leaned over his own seat and also yelled at me, as if to emphasise what Ingrid had just said: “And no more of this chicken-shit falling-over garbage neither!” “Yessir! Er, no sir!” I replied in my best available military fashion. My legs would definitely work next time I needed them. The military prison was only a short jeep-drive away from the infirmary. It was a modest but sturdy wooden structure, circa 1940. It never housed more than a few prisoners, mostly guys who’d gotten drunk in town and needed to cool off – or soldiers who had ‘lost track of the time’ and gone AWOL (absent without leave). The prison had never previously held a zombie – or a zombie’s brother, for that matter. It was neither fortified nor particularly secure – and had never needed to be. The two jeeps arrived in a cloud of dust and screeched to a halt. The driver of the second jeep stayed put. The Sergeant, driver of the first jeep, leapt from his seat and ran to the guards standing at the door of the prison building. “Stand down, men,” he barked, as they started to salute him. “This is urgent security business.” They both looked straight ahead and snapped to attention, rifles at the ready. The more senior of them (a corporal) said: “Sorry, sir. We’re not permitted to take orders from any of the U.S. NCO’s (non-commissioned officers).”
An serjont a lammas yn tu lywyer an jip ha kemmeres an ros yn y dhiwla. Ev a dhallathas yn fordh gans tynkyans a ruber war gentevynn. Yth esa Ingrid, hwath ankempenn ha dygribys heb mar, a’y esedh - ha jip arall a sywyas. Ingrid a boesas war-dhelergh ha garma orthymm: “Rag nessa rann an gwari ma, y fydh edhomm ahanas jy. Ni a vynn assaya dhasgavoes Davydh dhiworth an vaghow.” Ya! Yth esa ow pompya ow andrenalyn lemmyn. Yn y dro ev, an Serjont a boesas war-dhelergh ha garma keffrys orthymm – kepar ha pan esa ow mynnes poesleva lavarow Ingrid: “Ha byth moy a’n kawgh mabyar ma, koedhans war an leur namoy!” “Yasyrr! A, nasyrr!” a worthybis vy, y’m gwella fordh breselek. Yn sertan, yth obersa ow diwarr an nessa prys a via edhomm anedha dhymm. Nyns esa an prison breselek saw pellder kott a-dhiworth an vedhegva. Drehevyans sempel mes nerth lowr o, gwrys a-dro dhe vlydhynnyow 1940. Ny synsis nevra saw nebes prisners, an rann vrassa anedha re via polatys re alsa ha bos medhow y’n dre ha mayth esa edhomm dhedha a omgoselhe. Yn fordh arall, yth esa soudoryon may fia, yn apert, ‘koll an eur’ hag ytho i re alsa ha bos EHK (Estrigys Heb Kummyas). Ny synssa nevra kyns an prison zombi – po broder zombi, rag an mater na. Na kerys na diogel yn arbennik o – ha ny via kyns edhomm vyth bos yndella. Y teuth an dhew jip yn kommolenn a dhoust hag i a hedhis yn unn skrija. Y triga yn y jip an nessa lywyer. An Serjont-lywyer, y’n kynsa jip, a lammas dhiworth y esedh ha resek troha’n withysi a’ga sav orth daras drehevyans an prison. “Sevewgh a-denewen, ‘wesyon,” a harthas hag i salusys dhodho. “Negys sawder moyha ter.” An dhew gwithyas a lagattas a-dheragdha ha sevel a-dhesempis yn attendyans. An kottha gwas, korporal, yn-medh: “Drog yw genev, Syrr. Ny res kummyas dhyn rag degemmeres arghadow dhiworth SHK (Soedhogyon Heb Kommyssyon) an Statys Unys.”