Gardyloo

[A]ll the chairs in the family are emptied into this here barrel once a-day; and at ten o'clock at night the whole cargo is flung out of a back windore that looks into some street or lane, and the maid calls Gardy loo to the passengers, which signifies, Lord have mercy upon you! and this is done every night in every house at Haddingborough; so you may guess, Mary Jones, what a sweet savour comes from such a number of profuming pans […]

It would, in fact, seem as if a tacit agreement existed, that so soon as St Giles' clock struck ten, the windows were simultaneously opened for a general discharge (which, in 1745, must have rather alarmed Prince Charles' followers, when they had possession of the town), and the streets and closes resounded with one universal cry, Gardyloo! Dr Jamieson, in his Dictionary, gives the word as Jordeloo: I doubt if any such word was ever used; but in his Supplement the learned Doctor properly assigns it to the original French phrase, Gare de l'eau—Beware the water […]

Gardyloo is a word logophiles find irresistible. According to Ms. Sperling, gardyloo was, "in old Edinburgh, a warning cry before throwing dirty water from windows into the street in the 1770s. […]"

The method of garbage disposal in the Old Town was to shout ‘Gardy-loo’ and throw everything out the window. Gardy-loo was a warped version of gardez l'eau (approximately French for ‘watch out for the water’) – except it wasn't just water the warning referred to. […] [A] cry of ‘Gardy-loo’ was greeted by the return screech of ‘Haud yer haun’ (hold your hand). This would give you time to get into a doorway and all you suffered was a few splatters.

His eyes grew wide in revulsion when he realized what had just landed on him. His shout ripped through the midnight sky like a knife. "Gardyloo! Gardyloo! You are supposed to yell gardyloo before you throw your chamber pot out the window! You repulsive vermin, come down here so I can bash in your head!"

[…] I began to round up the scattered empties which, without so much as a ‘gardyloo’, I chucked from the window into the backcourt.

What do the polished inhabitants of Carrubber's close care for all the taunts that can be uttered by the mouths of all the tobacco-chewing, bacon-eating bagmen who chatter no intelligible language of any country, about "gardy loos," and Caledonian cremonas?

Notwithstanding the repeated proclamations of successive magistrates against depositing filth on the streets and closes, and against throwing soil and refuse over the windows, – emphasised as these proclamations were by threats of fines, imprisonment, the pillory, whipping, and banishment, – the practice was continued far into the last century; and contemporary writers represent the sounding of ten o'clock from the steeple of St Giles' to have been the signal for a general and simultaneous discharge from the windows of every house, amid a chorus of "Gardyloos."