you have not got oor Kornies

you have not got

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

nyns usi genes

Soortgelyke frases

have you not got
a nyns usi genes

voorbeelde

you have not got
/ nyns usi genes / / /

have you not got
/ a nyns usi genes / / /

news n. nowodhow pl.; nowedhys pl.; info. kedhlow pl. BK; sad n. yeyn nowodhow; n. about nowodhow ort ~ worth JB; phr. I have got n. ma genam nowodhow BM; I have got n. you will not like nawodhow ema genam na bleg dhe whei BK; what n. have you got? pana nowedhys eus genes ? WJ; if the n. are good mars ew an nowodhow da WJ
news n. nowodhow pl.; nowedhys pl.; info. kedhlow pl. BK; sad n. yeyn nowodhow; n. about nowodhow ort ~ worth JB; phr. I have got n. ma genam nowodhow BM; I have got n. you will not like nawodhow ema genam na bleg dhe whei BK; what n. have you got? pana nowedhys eus genes ? WJ; if the n. are good mars ew an nowodhow da WJ

Have you a computer? No! Has she got armchairs? Yes! She has two armchairs. I have not got a new wallet. . The children have a few balls. Has this dog got a name? Had that farm a dairy? The field did not have wide hedges. Has that house a large lounge? Yes! It has a large one. Has she a cat with her? Not now! Did they have their brother with them? Are these spectacles yours? Yes. Tthey are mine, thanks. Is this her glass? Yes! Isn't the next car Mr Martin's? Yes! It's Mr Martin's, I think. Were the shoes theirs? Yes! Wasn't that Wella's drink? No! It was Karenza's. I cut short my speech but they did not cut short their speech.
Eus jynn-amontya dhis? Nag eus! Eus kadoryow-bregh dhedhi? Eus! Yma diw gador-vregh dhedhi. Nyns eus tigenn nowydh dhymm. Yma nebes pelyow dhe'n fleghes. Eus hanow dhe'n ki ma? Esa le'ti dhe'n bargen-tir na? Nyns esa keow ledan dhe'n pras. Eus esedhva vras dhe'n chi na? Eus! Yma onan pur vras dhodho. Eus kath gensi? Nag eus lemmyn. Esa aga broder gansa? Yw an dhewweder ma dhis? Yns. I yw dhymm, meur ras. Yw an wedrenn ma dhedhi? Yw! A nyns yw an nessa karr dhe Vr Martyn? Yw! Ev yw dhe Vr Martyn, dell dybav. O an eskisyow dhedha? Ens! A nyns o an diwes na dhe Wella? Nag o! Dhe Gerensa o. My a verrhas ow hows mes ny verrhasons aga hows ynsi.

‘Well, as I was saying,’ Merry proceeded, ‘I kept my knowledge to myself, till this Spring when things got serious. Then we formed our conspiracy; and as we were serious, too, and meant business, we have not been too scrupulous. You are not a very easy nut to crack, and Gandalf is worse. But if you want to be introduced to our chief investigator, I can produce him.’
‘Wel, dell wrug vy leverel kyns,’ a besyas Merri, ‘My a omwithas ow godhvos bys y’n Gwenton ma pan dheuth ha bos traow sevur. Ena, ni a dhallathas agan bras; ha, drefenn ni dhe vos ervirys, ni o pur dhour. Nyns osta knowenn es dhe grakkya, ha Gandalf yw gweth. Mes, mar pe da genes bos kommendys dh’agan pennhwithrer, my a yll y dhiskwedhes dhis.’

‘Not too safe, I should say,’ said Merry. ‘But I have only had one rapid glance, and that was difficult to get. He never left the book about. I wonder what became of it. I should like another look. Have you got it, Frodo?’
‘Nyns yw travyth yw pur salow, dell dybav,’ yn-medh Merri. ‘Mes nyns esa moy es unn gowolok skav dhymm, ha henn o kales dhe wul. Nevra ny wrug ev gasa an lyver a’y worwedh a-dro. Ple’ma ev lemmyn dell omwovynnav? Usi ev dhisso Frodo?’

‘I know,’ said Frodo. ‘But all the same,’ he added with a shamefaced laugh, ‘I am terrified of him and his dogs. I have avoided his farm for years and years. He caught me several times trespassing after mushrooms, when I was a youngster at Brandy Hall. On the last occasion he beat me, and then took me and showed me to his dogs. “See, lads,” he said, “next time this young varmint sets foot on my land, you can eat him. Now see him off!” They chased me all the way to the Ferry. I have never got over the fright - though I daresay the beasts knew their business and would not really have touched me.’
‘My a woer,’ a leveris Frodo. ‘Mes byttegyns,’ ev a geworras gans hwarth leun a veth, ‘yma own bras dhymm anodho ha’y geun. My re’n wohelas ha’y vargen-tir dre vlydhynyow. Ev a’m kachyas nebes prys pan esen vy ow treuspassya a-barth skavellow-kroenek, pan en vy yonker dhe Hel Brandi. Dhe’n diwettha prys, ev a’m gweskis ha’m diskwedhes dh’y geun. “Ottomma, chettys,” ev a leveris, “dhe’n nessa prys an vall ma dhe settya troes war ow thir vy, y hyllowgh hwi y dhbri. Lemmyn, fes orto! ” I a’m fesyas dres oll an fordh dhe’n Kowbal. Nevra ny wrug vy ewnhe wosa an own – kyn hwrug an bestes godhvos aga soedh, dell waytyav, ha na’m tavsens.’

The doors swung open and the ‘red carpet’ took the form of being dragged roughly from the rear of the paddy-wagon and being dropped onto the tarmac of the roadway. (Oh, goody, just what I needed: some more deep bruising to my upper body!) David was treated likewise but I don’t think he got bruised – as I’ve said already, his skin sort of ‘tears’ if you apply enough force but you can patch the tears, as I had done in the crypt. Apparently, the Captain who had captured (and spared) us wanted to present his still-bound, still-blindfolded prizes to his commander. As best I can recall, the exchange went like this: Commander: “What have we got here, Captain?” Captain: “A zombie and his non-zombie brother, sir.” Commander: “They both seem still to be moving, Captain. Have you put a bullet in the zombie’s brain yet?” Captain: “No, sir.” Commander: “Bugger it, man, why on Earth not? Best thing for a zombie is a bullet in the brain. Can’t risk having one bite any of the officers, can we?” Captain: “Of course not, sir. But we could do with one or two for training purposes, Commander. After all, we have a thousand yank soldiers due to come through here in the next few days. And, none of them has ever even seen a zombie, sir. We don’t want them mistaking any of the living locals for the enemy, do we, sir?” (There was a pause, apparently while the commander absorbed this logic.) Commander: “Very well. But what about the other chap, the one who isn’t a zombie. Has he been bitten?”
Y leskas ledan apert an darasow ha’gan ‘leurlenn rudh’ o y’n furv a dhraylyans garow dhiworth delergh an kertik ha droppyans war darmak an fordh. (Ass o henna da. An dra esa edhomm ewn dhymm: moy a vrywyon down dhe’m korf ughella!) Davydh a veu dyghtyes yn kepar maner mes nyns esa bryw vyth dhodho – dell leveris seulabrys, y groghen a wra skwardya nebes mars eus fors lowr gorrys dhedhi. Byttegyns, y hyllir kloutya an groghen, dell wrussen vy y’n gleudhgell. Yn apert, yth esa an Kapten (re wrussa agan kachya - ha re wrussa agan sparya) ow mynnes diskwedhes y biwasow, hwath kelmys ha gorherys aga dewlagas, dh’y gaslywydh. Dell grysav, hemm yw an keskows a sywas – po neppyth haval dhodho: Kaslywydh: “Pyth yw henna, a Gapten?” Kapten: “Zombi, Syrr – ha’y vroder nag yw zombi.” Kaslywydh: “Yth hevel bos an dhew hwath ow kwaya, a Gapten. Eus pellenn yn ympynnyon an zombi hwath?” Kapten: “Nag eus, Syrr.” Kaslywydh: “Buggra, ‘was! A-barth an nev, prag na? An gwella tra rag zombi yw pellenn yn y ympynnyon. Ny yllir kemmeres chons nebonan yntra’n soedhogyon dhe vos brethys, a ny yllir? Kapten: “Na, Syrr. Ny yllir. Byttegyns, ni a allsa gul devnydh a onan po dew anedha rag agan trenyans, a Gaslywydh. Wosa oll, y fydh mil souder yanki ow tos der omma yn nebes dydhyow – ha nyns eus denvyth yntredha re welas zombi kyns, Syrr. Ny vynnyn i dhe gul kammgemmeryansow pan welvydhons, y’n kynsa prys, an eskar. Res yw dhyn konsydra an dus ow bywa.” (Yth esa powes. Yth esa an kaslywydh ow prederi a-dro dhe’n reson ma, dell heveli.) Kaslywydh: “Pur dha. Byttygens, pyth a vynnydh gul gans an gwas arall, an huni nag yw zombi? Brethys yw ev?”

After I composed myself, I realised that we had the rest of the day to fill in. I’m sure David would happily have gone back to the Hell-hole at Union House – so that he could lounge around with his zombie mates. But I was not going to cross swords again with that bitch-face “Gween” if I could possibly help it. “Hey, Dave! I’ve got a treat for you,” I exclaimed suddenly. “I’m going to take you to the movies.” I gave him no choice and firmly herded him out of Genevieve’s and into the Bug House. I had no idea if he still remembered what a movie was but I didn’t care. David was going to the movies whether he liked it or not. The shabby foyer of the Bug House was relatively untouched. There must have been no-one in it when the Apocalypse passed through. Did it happen at mid-day or thereabouts? No ‘session time’ then, I suppose – not during the week at a small single-screen suburban theatre. (Can you remember what one of those was?) I walked up the narrow staircase to the projection room. Now, you may think I would have no chance of getting the projector operating so that we would view a movie. But that’s where you’d be wrong. Dead wrong. This was in the days before video recorders, well before DVD’s, Blue-Ray and so on. So, schoolteachers needed to know how to operate simple movie projectors to show educational films to their classes. I was no teacher – but my dad was! Dad had done a proper Bell and Howell course and come out with a proper projectionist certificate – very pretty, very impressive. I asked him to bring the school projector home and show me how it worked. He obliged my demands and thus I knew the rudiments of the projectionist’s craft. That said, the projectors (there were 2) that confronted me in the projectionist room of the Carlton Movie House were very different to the one that Dad had brought home from school. A lot bigger. A lot more buttons and levers. I got one of them working in under half an hour (but I think I might have, sort of, broken the other one – sorry, Mr Projectionist).
Wosa my dhe omgalmynsi, my a dheuth konvedhes bos remenant an jydh bos lenwys. Sur en Davydh dhe vynnes dehweles dhe doll-ifarn yn-dann Chi an Kesunyans – may halla omdhiskwitha gans y vatys-zombi. Byttegyns, ny vynnen kledhya arta, an eyl dh’y gila, gans an fas-gast na, “Gwin” mars o possybyl dh’avoydya henna. “Hou, ‘Dhav! Yma dhymm neppyth arbennik ragos,” a griis vy a-dhistowgh. “Y fynnav dha gemmeres dhe’n fylmow.” Yn hwir, nyns esa dewis dhodho ha my herhdyes Davydh yn-mes Chi Gwynnuwer hag y’n Chideurek. Nyns esa dhymm tybyans vyth mar porthas ev kov hwath pyth o fylm mes ny vern. My a erviras Davydh dhe vones dhe’n fylmow mars o henna da ganso po nag o. Nyns o mar devys an sal-dynnargh usys y’n Chideurek. Possybyl o nag esa denvyth ynno pan dremensa an Gordhroglamm. A hwarsa ev hanterdydh po ogas? Nyns esa esedhek vyth ena y’n sinema, dell grysav – dhe’n lyha, nyns esa huni dy’gweythyow yn sinema byghan owth oberi gans skrin unnsel yn ranndra. (A yllowgh hwi perthi kov neppyth a’n par na?) My a yskynnas grisfordh ynn dhe’n sal-projektyans. Wel, y hallsewgh krysi nyns esa chons vyth a’m godhvos oberi an jynn-towlyans may hallen gweles fylm. Mes henn a via kammgemmeryans meur. Pur veur. Termyn o kyns bosva rekordyansow-gwydhyow, meur a dermyn kyns platennow rivennek po ‘Blue-Ray’ ha’n re erell. Ytho, yth esa edhomm dhe’n dhyskadoryon a wodhvos oberi an jynnow-towlyans sempel – rag diskwedhes fylmow adhyskansel dh’aga klassow. Nyns en dyskador heb mar – byttegyns, mab dyskador en vy! Ow thas re wrussa steus soedhogel “Bell ha Howell” rag gwaynya testskrif (pur deg ha splann) may eth ha bos towlyansyth ewn. My a wovynnas orto a dhri jynn-towlyans dhe-dre dhiworth an skol rag diskwedhes dhymm dell o oberys. Akordyes o hag, ytho, my a gonvedhi an kynsa traow a-dro dhe greft an towlyansyth. Kepar dell leveris, an jynnow-towlyansow (yth esa dew anedha) a sevis a- dheragov yn sal-towlyansyth an Chi Fylmow Karlton o poran dihaval dhe’n huni a dhegsa dhe-dre Tas dhiworth skol. Brassa yn feur. Meur a votonyow hag a golpesow. My a sewenas kul oberi onan yntredha wosa a-dro dhe hanter-our (mes, dell grysav, possybyl yw, wel, my dhe derri an huni arall – drog yw genev, a Vester Towlyansyth).