Tuis gipsy wedding in France, with the mathe -law invoking the law to keep her daughter, and the bride in tears, seems rather a sissy affair.
When I married a gipsy girl, says a British columnist, there was no nonsense. Having obtained her blushing consent with a straight left to the jaw, I and my male relations settled her father and his with the aid of knives and hames. After the marriage feast we danced on each other's faces.
Then it was o'er the wide world and áway, with my wife as a trace horse when she wasn't roped fo the tail of the car I woke up one morning in hospital with a cracked head and all my belongings stolen: but it was a perfect love-match while it lasted.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.