| Manx | English | |
|---|---|---|
| ER HOH ayrn jees jeh skeeal Harry Kelly liorish Markys Braide. | Here is part two of Harry Kelly’s story by Mark Braide. | |
| Ta sleih hannah er n’insh dou dy ghow ad soylley mooar ass y chied ayrn yn shiaghtin shoh chaie. | People have already told me that they greatly enjoyed the first part last week. | |
| Va Juan y Geill er y chellvane moghrey shiaghtin Jeheiney shoh chaie, as dinsh eh dou dy vel eh er chee gaarlaghey skeealyn elley mychione yn shenn sleih nagh bione dooinyn ta ny saa. | John Gell was on the telephone on Friday morning last week, and he told me that he was about to prepare more stories about the old people who weren’t known to us who are younger. | |
| Myr screeu Markys, she’n currym ain dy chur magh ayns clou ooilley ta ry-gheddyn mychione ny shenn ayraghyn ain, hymnee dooin yn cliejeen shen erskyn leagh, chengey ny mayrey Ellan Vannin. | As Mark wrote, it is our duty to publish in print all that is available concerning our ancestors to whom we will dedicate that priceless jewel, the mother tongue of the Isle of Man. | |
| Ta traa dy liooar ayn dy chlou skeealyn jeianagh as skeealyn joarree ny s’anmee tra vees recoyrtys jeant ain jeh ny cooinaghtyn ocsyn ghow toshiaght dy hauail nyn ghlare. | There is enough time to print modern stories and foreign stories later when our record is made of the memories of those who started to save our language. | |
| Screeu yn Olloo Robert Mac Comysh, “She ny goan scruit ta tannaghtyn,” as she’n irriney v’echey. | Professor Robert Thomson wrote, “It is the written words that remain,” and that was the truth he had. | |
| HARRY KELLY | HARRY KELLY | |
| (goll er) | (continuing) | |
| Ren eh gearey choud as v’eh jeeaghyn cour[1] y tholtan. | He smiled and he was looking towards the ruined house. | |
|
[1] cour]
[lesh], rather than
[cour] is used elsewhere for ‘towards’.
| ||
| “Vel oo fakin y shenn ghooinney ayns shen? Ta Gaelg flaaoil echey,” dooyrt eh. | “Do you see the old man there? He has fluent Manx,” he said. | |
| “T’eh goaill aggle mooar roish joarreeyn, agh trooid[2] marym, as hee mayd, son bee eh red scammyltagh my ta shiu er jeet voish Doolish dy gholl ersooyl dyn clashtyn fockle erbee.” | “He is very afraid of strangers, but come with me, and we’ll see, because it will be a scandal if you have come from Douglas, to go away without hearing a single word.” | |
|
[2] Trooid] ‘Come’ (imperative) is more commonly used to mean ‘Come (from there to here)’ as in the the phrase
[Trooid stiagh] ‘Come in.’ ‘Come’ in the sense of ‘Come (along with me)’ is more usually
[Tar].
| ||
| Hie shin marish sheese y bayr beg, raad, ec ooirr y bayr, va’n shenn ghooinney croymmit sheese ec[3] niee e laueyn ayns ammair chloaie. | We went with him down the lane, where at the edge of the lane, the old man was bent down washing his hands in a stone channel. | |
|
[3] ec] usage here appears to mimic the use of the particle ‘ag’ before a verbal noun in Scottish Gaelic.
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| “Harry”, dooyrt nyn garrey noa, “ta’n dooinney aeg shoh er jeet voish Doolish dy chlashtyn paart dy Gaelg: son shickyr cha jean shiu eh y hyndaa ersooyl mollit.” | “Harry,” said our new friend, “this young man has come from Douglas to hear some Manx: surely you won’t turn him away disappointed.” | |
| “Aw,” dooyrt Harry, “cha s’ayms.” | “Aw,” said Harry, “I don’t know.” | |
| Eisht hass eh seose chirrymaghey e laueyn er lhiatteeyn e vreechen as yeeagh eh dy gyere orrym. | Then he stood up drying his hands on the sides of his britches and he looked sharply at me. | |
| “Cha nel agh paart dy focklyn ayms — te bunnys ooilley jarroodit ayms. | “I only have some words — I’ve forgotten nearly it all. | |
| Er aght erbee shegin dou goll thie dy yannoo aarloo cappan dy hey son Juan as Thobm nish.” | Anyway, I must go home to get ready a cup of tea for Juan and Tom now.” | |
| “Cum ort Harry,” dooyrt nyn garrey, “Cre’n driss t’ort? Abbyr red ennagh ta mee guee orts rish y dooinney aeg.” | “Hold on Harry,” said our friend, “what’s your hurry? Say something I pray of you to the young man.” | |
| Duirree Harry as dooyrt eh, “As ta shiu er jeet voish Doolish ghooinney aeg? Oh m’arrane[4] — ta shen raad liauyr — agh c’red t’ou laccal clashtyn?” | Harry waited and he said “And you have come from Douglas young man? Oh my song — that is a long way — but what do you want to hear?” | |
|
[4] Oh m’arrane] ‘Oh my song’ — seems to be used here as English ‘Oh My Word!’, elsewhere unattested.
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| “Red erbee, sailliu,” dooyrt mish. | “Anything you please,” I said. | |
| “Eaisht jee eisht,” dooyrt eh, as loayr eh Padjer y Chiarn ’sy Ghaelg. | “Listen then,” he said, and he spoke the Lord’s Prayer in Manx. | |
| Cre cha yindyssagh va[5] dy chlashyn yn Ghaelg firrinagh son y chied cheayrt. | How wonderful (it) was to hear real Manx for the first time. | |
|
[5] va] evidently a misprint for
[ve] /
[v’eh].
| ||
| Ren mee cur booise da as dooyrt mee rish b’laik lhiam cheet er ash laa elley dy chlashtyn tooilley Gaelg. | I thanked him and I said to him I would like to come back another day to hear more Manx. | |
| Cha noddym gra dy row cuirrey creeoil currit dou — dy jarroo cha row cuirrey erbee chebbit dou, agh hie mee er-ash dys Cregneash as liorish jannoo lhiannan-shee jeempene hooar Harry dy row yeearree jeean ayms dy ynsaghey Gaelg, as lurg va shen reaghit va failt roym traa erbee hie mee dy chur shilley er. | I can’t say that a hearty invitation was given to me — indeed, no invitation at all was given to me, but I went back to Cregneash and by making a familiar spirit of myself Harry found that I had a keen desire to learn Manx, and after that was sorted there was a welcome before me any time I went to visit him. | |
| Ec y traa va mee cloie bluggan cass rish sheshaght ‘Ny shen ghuillyn’ ec keayrtyn er fastyr Jerdein (va shen y lieh laa feailley ’sy chiaghtyn) as er coontey shen cha row mish seyr dy hroailt dys Cregneash dy chooilley fastyr Jerdein. | At the time I was sometimes playing football for the ‘Old Boys’ team (Douglas High School Old Boys A.F.C. formed in 1926) on Thursday afternoons (that was the half day holiday in the week) and because of that I wasn’t free to travel to Cregneash every Thursday afternoon. | |
| Ny sodjey, ec keayrtyn va’n earish ro fluigh ny ro garroo as cha row eh cooie dy gholl markaight er cabbyl yiarn, as shen y fa cha jagh mee. | Furthermore, sometimes the weather was too wet or too rough and it wasn’t suitable to riding on an ‘iron horse’ (bicycle / bike), and that’s why I didn’t go. | |
| Cha daink smooinaght rieau ayns my chione dy gheddyn cabbyl yiarn immanit liorish motor, as myr shen va ram caaghyn caillit aym. | The thought never occurred to me to get an ‘iron horse’ driven by a motor (motorbike), and so I had many missed opportunities. | |
| Ta shoh er ve oyr dy hrimshey mooar dou ayns bleeantyn s’anmee. | This has been a cause of regret for me in later years. | |
| Cre’n bolvaneys ommidagh! | What utter stupidity! | |
| Va mee gobbraghey gyn lioar erbee, son s’coan va’d myr feecklyn kiark chymsaghey seose fockle nish as reesht gollrish eean shirrey rassyn dy reayll eh hene bio, as screeu sheese dy chooilley red fockle son fockle myr cheayll mee eh. | I was working without any book, for rare a hen’s teeth they were, collecting up a word now and again like a bird searching for seeds to keep itself alive, and writing down everything word for word as I heard it. | |
| Ayns y tourey shen chionnee mee aachlou Focklioar Cregeen voish Illiam Cubbon jeh’n Museum son daa skillin yeig. | In that summer I bought a reprint of Cregeen’s dictionary from William Cubbon of the Museum for twelve shillings. | |
| Va mish jeant magh. | I was satisfied. | |
| Cre’n lioar yindyssagh. | What a wonderful book. | |
| Va ogher ayms nish, myr yein, dy osley dorrys theihll noa, as jirrym fegooish pyagh erbee gra m'oi dy row shoh yn kionnaght share va rieau ry-gheddyn son daa skillin yeig. | I had a key now, to open the door of a new world, and I’ll say without anyone contradicting me that this was the best purchase that was ever got for twelve shillings. | |
| Lesh cooney y Focklioar va’n Gaelg ayms cheet er y hoshiaght. | With the help of the dictionary my Manx was progressing. | |
| Va Harry ny fer ynsee jeidagh as mie, as va mee my ynseydagh arryltagh. | Harry was an diligent and good teacher, and I was a willing learner. | |
| V’eh loayrt Gaelg rhyms ooilley’n traa, ayns e hie[6], er ny bayryn, er ny cassanyn as ayns ny magheryn. | He was speaking Manx to me all the time, in his house, on the roads, on the paths and in the fields. | |
|
[6] ayns e hie] text gives ‘ayns y hie’.
| ||
| S’treih lhiam gra nagh row traa ny smoo[7] ceaut ayms ayns Cregneash geaishtagh rish, as traa ny sloo ceaut ayms er y vagher bluggan cass, as jummalit er fardailysyn elley. | I’m sorry to say more time wan’t spent in Cregneash listening to him, and less time spent on the football field, and wasted on other foolish things. | |
|
[7] traa ny smoo— in Classical Manx
[traa sodjey] would be expected for ‘more time’. In late 19thC Manx
[ny smoo] was used as a catch-all translation of ‘more’ and its usage here is consistant consistant with that usage.
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| S’creeney ta shin tra te ro anmagh. | How wise we are when it is too late. | |
| Oie dy row va mee ayns thie Harry as va kiare deiney elley ayns shen. | One night I was in Harry’s house and there were four other men there. | |
| V’ad ooilley e nabooyn as she ooilley Gaelg v’ad loayrt. | They were all his neighbours and it was all Manx they were talking. | |
| Hoie mee ayns chorneil, cha feagh as lugh, screeu sheese cha wheesh as voddin[8]. | I sat in the corner, as quiet as a mouse, writing down as much as I could. | |
|
[8] In the test
[cha wheesh as] is repeated in error.
‘cha voddin’ — ‘I could’ is the conditional tense form, not the simple past — although this usage agrees with the writing of Ned Beg Hom Ruy (also from Cregneash).
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| Lurg roshtyn my hie hene, bunnys ec munoie, myr ve oayllagh dou, hoie mee sheese ec y voayrd, yn Focklioar ec my lhiattee dy reaghey magh ny screeunyn jeant ayms, as va jannoo yindys mooar orrym dy feddyn magh son sambyl, dy row “lal” (myr cheayll mee yn ockle[9]) ayns Focklioar Cregeen fo’n chummey kiart “laccal”, “smun-yin” fo “smooinaghtyn” as dy row “raw harvey” “ro happee”. | After arriving at my own house, almost at midnight, as was usual for me, I sat down at the table, the Dictionary at my side, to sort out the writing I’d done, and I was surprised to discover for example, that “lal” (as I heard the word) in Cregeen’s Dictionary was under the correct form “laccal”, “smun-yin” under “smooinaghtyn” and that “raw harvey” was “ro happee”. | |
|
[9] yn ’ockle]
[yn fockle] would be expected here.
| ||
| Va mee cronnaghey reddyn noa myr shoh ooilley yn traa as va mee er ny ghreinnaghey dy gholl er fegooish gennaghtyn skeeys erbee. | I was noticing new things like this all the time and I was encouraged to go on without feeling any tiredness at all. | |
| Voish Harry hooar mee enmyn ny magheryn ’sy valley beg as dinsh eh dou ymmodee skeealyn jeh shenn hraaghyn, yn obbyr va goll er, kys v’eh ny eeasteyr goll dys y yeeastagh ec Kinsale, as shiaulley dys puirt elley ayns Nherin as ny h’Ellanyn Albinagh raad va’n shenn ghlare er ny loayrt as er ny hoiggal ec dy chooilley ’nane, as yn traa cheaut echey er y Cholloo tayrtyn conningyn. | From Harry I got the names of the fields in the village, and he told me many stories of old times, the work that was going on, how he was a fisherman going to the fishing at Kinsale, and sailing to other ports in Ireland and the Isles of Scotland where the old language was spoken and understood by everyone, and the time he spent on the Calf of Man catching rabbits. | |
| Dinsh eh dou skeealyn mychione ny mooinjer veggey, jeh reddyn quaagh t’eh er n’akin as chlashtyn, mysh yn traa v’eh gobbraghey cur sheese yn raad yiarn tra va ny deiney voish Cregneash er cosh ec kiare er y chlag ’sy voghrey dy ve ec nyn obbyr as kys v’ad shooyl choud’s Balley Chashtal dys yn obbyr shoh. | He told me stories about the fairies, of the strange things he has seen and heard, about the time he was working putting doen the railway when the men from Cregneash were up at four o’clock in the morning to be at their work and how they were walking as far as Castletown to this work. | |
| Cha row yn Gaelg dy rieau jarroodit echey son v’eh jannoo ymmyd j’ee ooilley laghyn e vea. | He never forgot his Manx because he was using it all the days of his life. | |
| V’eh ny ghooinney bioyr as skibbylt as foast jannoo paart dy obbyr ga v’eh erskyn kiare feed blein dy eash[10], karraghey cleighyn, gobbraghey ’sy hraagh, soie praaseyn, jannoo jeeigyn, freayll arrey er kirree as ollagh, as tayrn ushtey voish y chibbyrt ’sy vaghey cooyl y thie. | He was a lively man and agile and still doing some work even though he was above eighty years of age, mending hedges, working in the hay, setting potaoes, making ditches, keeping watch on sheep and cattle, and drawing water from the well in the field behind the house. | |
|
[10] eash] text gives
[eash]
| ||
| Va ennym y chibbyrt shoh “Ushtey glen”. Dy ve ny haaue ve dwoaieagh da. | The name of this well was “Pure water”. To be idle — it was loathesome for him. | |
| V’eh ny shenn scollag aeg as dinsh eh dou nagh row traa echey dy gheddyn poost. | He was an old bachelor and he told me that he didn’t have time to get married. | |
| Er hoh skeeal jeh’n vioys[11] echey ayns e ocklyn hene myr ve scruit sheese ayms ’sy vlein 1930. | This is the story of his life in his own words as it was written down in the year 1930. | |
|
[11] jeh’n vioys echey] ‘of his life’.
[bioys] usually means ‘life’ in the sense of ‘life-force’. ‘Of his life’ in the sense of ‘of his experience of living’ is usually
[jeh’n vea echey].
| ||
| “Va mee ruggit ayns thie thooit ayn Creneash yn boayl raad ta mee sthill beaghey. | “I was born in a thatched house in Cregneash where I am still living. | |
| Va daa vraar aym as daa huyr aym. | I had two brothers and two sisters. | |
| Va my ghaa vraar ny shinney na mish as va my ghaa huyr ny saa. | My two brothers were older than me and my two sisters were younger. | |
| Va shuyr ayms beaghey ayns Sostyn as v’ee poost rish Constable. | I had a sister living in England and she was married to a constable. | |
| Va my vraaraghyn yeeasteyryn agh t’ad marroo bleeantyn er dy henney. | My brothers were fishermen but are dead years ago. | |
| Va my yishag as my vummig taggloo ooilley Gaelg eddyr ochene as va shinyn phonnieryn toiggal ooilley v’ad gra. | My dad and my mum spoke all Manx between themselves and we youngsters were understanding all they were saying. | |
| Va my yishag soie ’sy stoyll drommey vooar dy chooilley Jedoonee lhaih yn Bible Manninagh dooinyn. | My father was sitting in the big chair every Sunday reading the Manx Bible to us. | |
| Va shin goll dys y Chabbal dy chooilley Jedoonee. | We were going to the chapel every Sunday. | |
| Va’n Chabbal faggys da’n Howe. | The chapel was near to the Howe. | |
| Ec ny laghyn shoh ta keeill ayns Cregneash myrgeddin. | These days there’s a church in Cregneash too. | |
| Ren ad chymsagh argid ayns y voayl as hrog ad yn keeill. | They collected money in the place and they erected the church. | |
| Ta cooinaghtyn ayms traa v’ee currit seose. | I have a memory of (the) time when it was put up. | |
| Va my yishag as my vummig feer chrauee. | My dad and mum were very religious. | |
| Va bunnys ooilley’n sleih mygeayrt shoh crauee ayns ny laghyn shen. | Almost all the people around here were religious in those days. | |
| V’ad cliaghtit dy ghoaill pynt dy yough ny keayrtyn agh cha row ad goaill rouyr. | They were accustomed to having a pint of ale sometimes, but they weren’t taking too much. | |
| Cha jinnagh oo mennick fakin dooinney scooyrit, agh unnane foddee. | You wouldn’t often see a man drunk, except one maybe. | |
| Hie mish dys schoill freaylt ec Dame ayns Purt Noo Moirrey. | I went to a school kept by a Dame (schoolmistress) in Port St. Mary. | |
| Va mee geeck ping son shiaghtin as mannagh row ping ec guilley moghrey Jelhein v’eh currit thie. | I was paying a penny for a week and unless a boy had a penny on Monday morning he was sent home. | |
| Tra va mee shiaght bleeantyn dy eaysh va mee gobbraghey er y thalloo jannoo kianglaghyn son bunneeyn ’syn ouyr, cur magh yn ollagh ’sy vagheryn as cur lesh ad er ash ’syn astyr tra va’n dorraghys cheet. | When I was seven years of age I was working on the land making bindings for sheaves in the harvest time, bringing the cattle into the fields and bringing the back in the afternoon when it was getting dark. | |
| Va mee jannoo sthookyn jeh ny bunneeyn as va paart jeu feer trome. | I was making stooks from the sheaves and some of them were very heavy. | |
| Va’n arroo giarrit ec ny mraane lesh corranyn agh ny keayrtyn va ny deiney giarrey eh lesh y yiarn foldyragh.” | The corn was cut by the women with sickles, but sometimes the men were cutting it with the scythe.” | |
| Oh dy beagh greieyn loayrt er-mayrn[12] ec y traa shen lheid as t’ayn jiu. | O, if only ‘speaking machines’ had been around at that time such as there are today. | |
|
[12] er-mayrn] ‘remaining’, ‘surviving’, ‘extant’ etc. Likely an erroneous choice here.
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| Nish ta palchey jeu ry-gheddyn agh t’ad er jeet ro anmagh. | Now there are plenty of them available, but they have come too late. | |
| Cre’n stoyr dy Gaelg v’ayns Cregneash mysh jeih blein as daeed er dy henney. | What a wealth of Manx there was in Cregneash around fifty years ago. | |
| Ooilley caillit. | All lost. | |
| Caillit son dy bragh. | Lost forever. | |
| Dy chassey goan Noo Mian. | To twist (paraphrase) the words of Saint Matthew; | |
| “Va’n fouyr dy jarroo palchey, agh s’goan va ny beayneeyn.” | “The harvest was abundent, but how scarce the reapers were.” | |
| Scooin lhiam y Olloo Marstrander[13] cheet voish Loghlinn as greie recortys echey dy yannoo recortys jeh’n chenn ghlare ain. | I remember Professor Marstrander coming from Norway with a recording machine to make a recording of our old language. | |
|
[13] Carl Marstrander (1889 – 1965)
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| V’eh laccal pooar electragh dy obbraghey yn greie shoh as hie Harry sheese dys Purt Chiarn dy loayrt Gaelg. | He wanted electric power to work this machine and Harry went down to Port Erin to speak Manx. | |
| Va’n recortys jeant er rhollanyn coodit ayns kere. | The recording was made on cylinders covevered in wax. | |
| Va’n Olloo kiartit dy ghoaill ny rhollanyn dys Oslo as ayns shen dy yannoo claareeyn voish ny rhollanyn er stoo foddey-farraghtyn as ghiall eh dou dy yoin ’nane jeh ny claareeyn shoh. | The professor had intended to take the cylinders to Oslo and to make discs from the cylinders there on long-lasting material and he promised me that I would get one of these discs. | |
| Haink yn caggey as cha row yn obbyr shoh jeant, agh cheayll mee dy row ny rhollanyn currit ersooyl ec Marstrander dys boayl chemmyrk ayns Dublin son sauchys. | The war came and this work wasn’t done, but I heard that the cylinders were sent away by Marstrander to a place of refuge in Dublin, for safety. | |
| (ry-hannaghtyn) | (to be continued) | |
| PADJER NY GHRUAIGHTEE EC Y VADRAN | The Druid’s Prayer at Dawn | |
| “Yee, nyn Ard-ayr, beayn t’ou mastey ooilley chaghlaaghyn. | “God, our chief-father, you are eternal amongst all changes. | |
| Ta shin dy dty hirrey ayns gloyr y vadran. | We seek thee in the glory of the dawn. | |
| Ta shin dy dty hirrey tra ta dorraghys ny h-oie er jea. | We seek thee when the darkness of the night has fled. | |
| Ta cadley credjue[14] rieau er leeideil sheelnaue ny hrooid[15] yn oie gys y vadran; leeidee[16] dy bragh yn cadley credjue voish y vaase gys bea.”[17] | Sleep of faith has always led humanity through the the night to the dawn; forever lead the sleep of faith from death to life.” | |
|
[14] cadley credjue] ‘sleep of faith’.
[15] ny hroid] ‘through it’ — often used instead of
[trooid] ‘through’ in writing of the late 20thC.
[16] leeidee] assumed here to be the imperative of
[leideil] ‘leading’, which elsewhere in the corpus is
[leeid].
[17] voish y vaase gys bea] ‘from death to a life’ — evidently the intended meaning is ‘from life to death’, for which the expected phrase would be
[voish y vaase gys y vea].
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