I Even Met Happy Gypsies Page #2

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Look at the list! -I can't read.

I could wipe myself with it.

You can't read,

but you can listen!

Bacinci, Debeljaca, Gospodinci...

Count them together with me!

Ten for you and ten for me!

Bacinci, Debeljaca, Gospodinci...

Now, your ten.

Dobanovci, Bogojevci, Sonta...

See, an equal split!

You should have known

that Padina is mine!

You're right. I was wrong.

I can't return the feathers,

I sold them.

I'll stay in Apatin.

I'll advance you the money.

Buy the feathers, instead of me.

We'll split the profit.

-Are you trying to con me?

Your father conned your mother!

You take my territory,

and split the work.

You get the feathers,

I'll sort and sell them.

Bring two pitchers of wine,

for Bora and me!

Enough, already!

He pinched me again!

Hey, Tisa, why are

you looking so sad?

What are you doing up so late?

-Sing us a song! -I can't.

I thought you wanted to be

a singer. Well, sing then!

"As I travelled on

my long journey,

I met a happy Gypsy, too"

That's enough! Go home!

You've plenty to do

do for your wedding!

Can't you give me

a moment of peace?

I'm waiting for you to get rich.

-It won't be long now.

Forget about her, Bora.

Here's 5.000. Now sing for us!

I'll never play again!

I'm sticking to music!

..."As I travelled on my

long journey"...

..."I met a happy Gypsy, too"...

..."Hey, Gypsies!"...

..."Hey, people!"...

Get up, you drunken bastard!

Can you hear me?

You Gypsy bastard!

How much did you drink?

Bora, help me!

My sister would kill me, if l

left him here. He's so drunk!

Let's get him into the cart.

Into the garbage cart,

you Gypsy bastard!

You can't wipe your own nose

and you want to get married!

Ruza! Take this!

I'm going away on business.

Who owns this flock of geese?

-The one up front.

Behind the coffin?

-Further to the front.

There's no one in front of the

coffin. -What about in it?

God rest our departed master's

soul. -Bloody master!

Where are the heirs?

In front, leading the mourners.

To each his due.

Here's to the souls of the dead.

And for the living, how about

selling me your feathers.

You don't have money for

my flock. -I do. How much?

What should the price be?

-100.000 and no less.

What'll we do,

if we don't sell?

Sell them another day.

be plucked by tomorrow.

Too much! -You won't

find such down!

Every Gypsy, when trading

his horse, sings his praise.

Anything less, no deal.

-Forget it then.

I don't carry that much

money on me.

Wait a minute!

Wait, my friend!

Dear Lord, stop running

like an express train!

You'll never be able to do

business with those peasants.

Come, I'll show you something.

Feathers, lots of feathers!

You must be married,

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