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BANGLANEYN.
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Branches
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My Charrey,
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My Friend,
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T’eh er n’yannoo laane taitnys dooys dy akin ayns y “Ghrian” dy vel y Sheshaght Gailkagh er n’irree seose ec-y-jerrey veih nyn merrioose.
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It has given me much pleasure to notice in the “Sun” that the Manx Language Society have risen at last out of their drowsiness.
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Bleeaney lurg bleeaney va goll harish as cha row veg re-akin vouesyn.
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Year after year was passing away and yet nothing was seen done.
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Heill me dy row ad ooilley cooidjagh, banglaneyn shyrgit, ceau magh duillagyn beggey laa sy vlein as goll dys cadley son bleiney elley.
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I thought they were altogether withered branches, casting forth stunted leaves for a single day, then falling asleep for another year.
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Fy-yerree t’eh jeeaghyn, dy vel red-ennagh jeant, as ayns y boayl kiart, son ayns y paitchyn ny-lomarcan ta nyn treishteil.
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At last, it seems there is something done and in the right place, for in the children is our only hope.
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Ta palchey sleih foast ayns dy-choilley ennyd s’yn Ellan lesh Gailch mie oc dy chur daue.
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There are plenty of folks still in all parts of the Island who can learn them good Manx.
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Lhiats dy firrinagh,
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Yours truly
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FIEAUEYDER.
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‘One who waits’
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