| Manx | English | |
|---|---|---|
| My Ghooinney cheerey, Te jannoo lane taitnys da my chree (ga bunnys three cheead veeiley jeh) dy chlashtyn dy vel Manninee fei-yerrey, ga yn laa lurg y vargey, doostey seose ass nyn merruid—haaveenagh dy hauail Chengey-ny-Mayrey veih ve ooilley cooidjagh oanluckit syn oaie. | My Countryman,—It delights my heart (though nearly three hundred miles away) to hear that Manxmen at last, although the day after the fair, are waking up out of their lethargy to save the mother tongue from being altogether buried in the grave. | |
| Ga-dy-vel ee roie dy tappee gour-y-vullee, gollrish ny banglaneyn elley jeh’n chenn ghlare-ghooie, va keayrt dy row gurneil yn trass ayrn jeh’n Rank, ny-yeih cha vel eh yindys erbee, dy vel ad ooilley goll sheese ny lhiargee agh er-lheh, yn Ghailck Vanninagh son ta cha beg dy chummaltee syn Ellan. | Although it is running fast to an end, like the other branches of the old native tongue which once held sway over the third part of France, nevertheless it is no wonder that they are all going down the hill (declining), but especially the Manx Gaelic, for there are so few inhabitants in the Island. | |
| Ta Yee er choyrt wheesh dy cheeayll da dooinney nish, dy vel eh gimman ny greinyn-aileagh, t’eh jannoo eer er famman-ny-geayee, as ta wheesh dy schlei, currit da, dy vel eh er n’yannoo mollagyn-aeragh dy chur lhien seose eh dys ny bodjallyn. Ta siyn-hiaullee echey myrgeddin dy gholl veih Cheer dy Heer, eer noi sooill-ny-geay ee, tidaghyn ny marrey, as gaalyn yn aer. | God has given so much sense to man now that he drives the steam engines (locomotives) which he makes even on the tail of the wind; and so much skill is given to him that he has made balloons to take him up to the clouds. He has vessels, also, to go from country to country, even against the eye of the wind, the tides of the sea, and the gales of heaven. | |
| Eer er grunt y cheayin vooar hene, ta saase ec dooinney dy chur chyrrys veih un ayn jeh’n seihll dys ayrn elley lesh bieauid yn tendreil. | Even on the bottom of the ocean itself, man has the means of sending a message from one part of the world to another with the speed of lightning. | |
| Shen-y-fa ta sleih ny-cruinney mestit fud-y-cheilley wheesh shen smoo na va’d rieau roie -dy re yn ghlare s’cadjin ta ’sy theihll vees y glare smoo ymmyd vees jeant j’ee. She shoh yn oyr, son y chooid smoo, dy vel yn Ghailck Vanninagh ain er gholl kione my-lhei cha tappee. Ta Mannin nish jeant, myr dy beagh ee, ayrn jeh Sostyn, raad t’an Vaarle glare chadjin y theay. | Therefore the people of the world are mixed together so much more than they ever were before, so that the most common language in the world will be that of which the most use is made. This is the principal reason why our Manx Gaelic has gone down so fast. The Isle of Man has now become, as it were, a part of England, where English is the common language of the people. | |
| Ayns Sostyn er-y-fa-shen cha vel yn Ghailck dys ymmyd erbee. Myr shoh ta’n Vaarl goaill yn reiltys as yn reiltys vees eck. Ta’n oyr feer vaghtal. Ta dellal Vannin currit lesh çheu-sthie jeh queig ny shey dy ooryn dys margaghyn Hostyn, as dy ghellal ayndoo shen, she Baarle, as Baarle ynrican, shegin ve oc. | In England therefore, Manx is of no use. So English takes the rule, and the rule she will have. The reason is very obvious. The trade of the Island is brought within fire or six hours of the markets of England, and to trade there, English, and English only, they must have. | |
| Ta sleih-aegey Vannin myrgeddin, chammah as y chenndiaght, troailt veih boayl dy voayl as fei-ny-cruinney, paart dys yn aill, paart dys keird—as paart elley goll ey-shiaulley foddey jeh dy hagglym cooid as cowryn gour y laa fliaghee. | The young people of the Island also, as well as the old, travel from place to place throughout the world—some to hired service, some to trade, and others go sailing far away to amass goods and riches for a rainy day. | |
| Son y chooid smoo, she baarl ta’d loayrt, as ayns baarl, ta’d dellal. | For the most part, it is English they speak, and in English they trade. | |
| Fakin shoh ro-laue eisht ta sleih coontey beg jeh’n ghlare ghooie oc hene, ec y traa cheddin, oddagh Gailck ve oc chammah as y vaarl, fegooish yn derrey yeh cheet ayns raad y jeh elley. | Foreseeing this, then, people have little regard for their own native tongne, yet they could have both Manx and English without one coming in the way of the other. | |
| Te yn fardalys smoo ’sy theihll dy chredjal dy jinnagh tushtey jeh taggloo as lhaih yn Ghailck dy bragh cheet ’sy raad oc ayns gynsagh yn vaarl. Cha daink shoh rieau my raad’s ayns gynsagh yn vaarl. | It is the greatest mistake in tbe world to believe that a knowledge of conversing in, and reading Manx would ever get in the way of learning English. This never got in my way when learning English. | |
| Ec jeih bleeaney dy eash va mee abyl dy loayrt dy flaaioll ayns Gailck rish cotlaryn my yishig nagh rou baarl erbee oc, as roish va mee feed blein dy eash, va ymmodee lioayrn-veggey vaarlagh chyndaait aym dys Gailck as er nyn gloughey son ymmyd y theay. Nish lesh ooilley’n obbyr shoh ayns Gailck, cha row eh rieau ayns my raad, edyr ayns loayrt ny lhaih yn vaarl. | At ten years of age I was able to speak fluently in Manx with my father’s tenants, who did not understand English, and before I was twenty years of age I had translated many little English books into Manx, and printed them for the use of the people. Now, with all this work in Manx, it was never in my way either when speaking or reading English. | |
| Agh ta ard-reiltee Ellan Vannin nyooi’n Gailck. Ta shirvaishee yn ghoo je dy chooilley chredjue noi-eck —ta bruinya as, leighderyn noi-eck. As ta’r aegiid troggit seose nish ny smee hushtee je Chengy-ny-mayrey na va maase y vagheragh cliaghtey ve. | But the rulers of tbe Isle of Man are against Manx; the ministers of the Word of every faith are against it; the judges and lawyers are against it; and the young are reared now more ignorant of the mother tongne than the beasts of the fields used to be. | |
| Ayns tra Aspick Wilson as Aspick Vark, cha voddagh doonney—aeg erbee geddyn stiagh ayns oik y taggyrtys feegooish gaileck vie v’eckey. | In the time of Bishop Wilson and Bishop Mark [Hildesley], no young man could enter the office of the priesthood unless he had good Manx. | |
| Tra va Kiar-as feed ny Garrane reill roish nish, she Gailck ooilley voc— as ayns traa yn vriw Lace as yn vriw Chrellin cha bloys da turneyr erbee cheet kiongoyrt roo nagh voddagh arganey ayns Gailck. | When the twenty-four (Keys) who wore carranes ruled formerly, it was all Manx they had; and in the time of Deemster Lace and Deemster Crellin, no attorney dared come into their presence unless he could argue in Manx. | |
| Ta cooniagtyn aym pene, auns laghyn my aegid, dy re ayns gailck va shin ooilley loayrt rish nyn gabbil as nyn ollagh. Eer ny moddee hene mannagh loayragh shin roo ayns gailek, cha jinnagh ad cloh dooin—agh jeeaghyn mygeayrt-y-moo, goaill yn yindys smoo ’sy theihll c’red va shin la—ec al ad jannoo dooin. | I myself remember, in the days of my youth, that it was in Manx that we all spoke to our horses and our cattle. Even the dogs themselves, unless we spoke to them in Manx, would not bark for us, but would look about them wondering what in the world we wanted them to do for us. | |
| Cha rou ny moddee voghtey hene toiggal baarl, son she Gailck ooiley v’oc, as cha rou ad goaill nearey jee noadyr. | The poor dogs themselves did not understand English, for it was all Manx they had, and they were not ashamed of it either. | |
| Cha nhimmey blein er dy henney neayrr's verr mee er shenn ghooinney 'sy raad-vooar, geiyrt roish lieh - ghussan dy vooaghyn vluight voish y vagher raad va’d er ve gyndyr, dy chur stiagh ad ’sy thie ollee. | Not many years since I met an old man in the highway driving half-a-dozen milch cows from the field, where they had been grazing, to put them into the cow-house. | |
| Va injeig veg choon combaasal yn waane; cha leah’s hooar ny booaghyn stiagh ayns shen, lesh nyn muilg lane, hie ad dy ghleck ry-cheilley choud’s v’an çhenn ghooinney fosley yn dorrys dy gheddyn stiagh ad. Cha leah’s haink eh magh, ghow eh ny vud oc ayns farg eulys bunnys brishey ny asnaghyn ayndoo lesh y vad v’echey ny laue, gyllagh ny enmyn oc ayns Gailck, myr v’ad broo y-cheilley lesh nyn eairkyn, as gra; | There was a little narrow paddock encompassing the shed; as soon as the cows got in there, with their bellies full, they began to wrestle together while the old man was opening the door to get them in. As soon as he came out he set amongst them in a rage of fury almost breaking the ribs in them with the bat (stick) which he had in his hand, shouting their names in Manx, as they were bruising one another with their horns, and saying, | |
| “Ghonnag y veeataig dyn nearey myr t’ou, gow stiagh dys dty eiystyr, as gow fea. | “Brownie! Shameless hussy you are, go into your stall-halter and be quiet. | |
| Vriggin! Mannagh derr oo seose ayns traa brishym ny craueyn aynyd— yn red vrein myr t’ou. Stiagh lhiat ta mee gra rhyt. | Spotty! If you don’t give over in time, I’ll break the bones in you, the dirty thing you are. In with you, I’m telling you. | |
| “Ghooag ! Ghaney, derr oo seose, derr oo, | Blackie! Bold thing. Will you give up, will you?” | |
| as cheau eh yn vad urree. Woaill eh ee er ny eairkyn as huitt ee sheese er ny glioonyn eck. Heill mee shickyr dy liooar dy row ny eairkyn eck brisht. Fei gherrey liorish gyllagh as geeaylley hooar eh ad ooilley stiagh er nyn eiystyr[1] as va fea er. | and he threw the stick on her. It struck her on the horns, and she fell down on her knees. I thought sure enough that her horns were broken. At last, by shouting and beating, he got them all in to their stall-halters, and he was at rest. | |
|
eiystyr—a halter, or cow-tie, in the nineteenth century cattle were often kept tied up in halters when inside barns.
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| “My henn ghooinney”, dooyrt mee rish, “ta ny booaghyn ayd’s er ve ynsit dy mie ’sy Ghailck.” | “My old man,” said I to him, “your cows have been taught well in the Manx.” | |
| “Gailck voght orroo,” dooyrt eh, “tra ta nyn muilg lane as ad goll stiagh, t’an ghleck as y reaid to’c dy liooar dy vrasnaghey Yob hene, dy beagh eh ny vud oc— agh ta mish er chur er ny craueyn ocsyn jeesteenee dy mie as lhig daue shen y ghoaill son shibber daue.” | “Poor Manx on them,” [this rendering, though literal, does not convey the precise meaning of the original; in fact, its exact import can hardly be expressed in English], said he, “when their bellies are full and they go in, their wrestling and pranks are enough to provoke Job himself, if he were amongst them. But I have given their bones a good cracking, and let them take that for their supper.” | |
| Myr shoh, Ghawson, t’ou curmyner, dy row eer maase-y-vagheragh, ayns ny shenn traaghin roish nish, toiggal yn ghailck ny share na t’an chooid smoo dy leih nish. | So you see Dawson, even the beasts of the field in olden times understood the Manx better than the greater part of the people do now. | |
| Lhig j'ee gholl roee, jir ad, cre sheeu ee dooin nish? Cha vod mayd dellall aynjee ayns sostyn ny s’coan boayll erbee ellay. Cha vel ee, er-y-fa-shen dys veg, yn ymmyd da’n Ellan nish — lhig-jee-gholl roee raad saill ee. | “Let it go,” they say. “What is the good of it to us now? We cannot trade in it in England or scarcely any other place. It is not, therefore, of any use to the Island now. Let it go where it likes.” | |
| Agh ta mysh thousane dy vanninee ayns ayrn jeh America, enmyssit Cleveland nagh n’iarragh shoh. “Lhig-jee gholl roee raad saill ee.” | But there are about a thousand Manxmen in a part of America called Cleveland who would not say this “Let it go where it likes.” | |
| She gailck t’oc ooilley ec meeiteillyn y cheilley ayns nyn ghellal dagh laa, ayns soilshaghey Goo Yee da’n phobble, as bunnys dy chooilley nhee elley- ec y traa cheddin nagh vel sleih erbee mygeayrt-y-moo ta baarl veg share oc. Va jees jeu keayrt[2] ec my hie’s bleeanytyn dy mie er-dy-henney— va fer jeu ruggit ayns America, ga jeh Ayr as moir vanninagh – v’eh ynsit son leighder. Va’n er elley mac shaghrey d’ou hene, hie rooish ’syn aegid echey dys America, as tra daag eh yn Elian, cha row eh toiggal veg agh Baarl. Hug ad yindys orrym pene dy chlashtyn yn ghailck vie voc— as cha row eh jannoo hyntyr erbee da’n vaarl voc. Va’n daa ghlare oc ayns ynnyd serinar. | It is Manx they all have at meetings with eachother, in their everyday trade, in showing the Word of God to the people, and almost everything else. At the same time, there are not any people around about them who have any better English. There were two of them at my house some years ago. One of them was born in America, though of Manx father and mother. He was educated as a lawyer. The other was my own sister’s son, who went away in his youth to America, and when be left the Island he understood nothing but English. I wondered to hear the good Manx they had, and it did no harm to their English. They had two languages instead of one. | |
|
The original has treeayt, presumabley a typo for ‘keayrt’.
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| Ta un red elley ayn soilshee-ym dhyt— Yuan Ghawson, as verym jerrey er my chooin. | I have one other thing to show to you, Juan Dawson, and I will bring my remarks to a close. | |
| Mysh three bleaney as feed er-dy henney, hie mee laa dy rou, dy akin y Challoo, marish shen ainjyssagh haink dy yeeaghyn mee veih Lunnin. Tra rosh shin dys Mullagh yn Home va boayl ayns shen va keayrt ennagh dy row raad va ny creg-yn er myn Scotley as raipit veih my cheilley ayns aght feer yindyssagh ec craa- vooar-hallooin. Ta'n voayl enmyssit ny Scaur-yn[3]. | About three and twenty years ago I went one day to see the Calf of Man, with an old acquaintance who came to see me from London. When we reached the top of the Howe, there was a place there where at some time the rocks were split and torn asunder in a very wonderful manner by an earthquake. The place was called the Scauryn (Chasms). There were several young boys there, about ten or a dozen years of age, cutting ling for fire. | |
|
Cregeeen gives skoryn.
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| Va shiartanse dy ghuillin aegey ayns shen mysh jeih ny dussan dy vleeantyn dy eash, gastyrl freeagh son aile. Vrie mee jehn’ er smoo jeu ayns baarl, c’raad va ny Scaur-yn - Yeeagh ad ooilley orrym as yiarree ad seose ’syn oaie— agh cha dooar mee un ockle dy ansoor. Vrie mee reesht jehn’ ghuilley smoo jeu ayns baarl kyndagh rish y joaree va marym, row ad er choayl nyn jengey ’sy frioagh. Cha row mee veg screeney na va mee roee — Doshil ny guillin nyn meeal goll-rish shen scarrag er y dooan— as heillagh fer dy dhatt nyn sooillyn ’sy vollag oc lesh jindys. | I enquired of the biggest of them in English where were the Scauryn. They all looked at me and coloured up in tbe face, but gave me not one word of answer. I enquired again of the biggest boy of them in English, because of the stranger that sras with me, " Had they lost their tongues in the ling ?" I was no wiser than I was before. The boys opened their mouths like an old skate on the hook, and one would imagine their eyes swelled in their sockets with wonder. | |
| Smooinnee mee chelleeragh er y Ghailck, as vrie mee jeu kys nagh dug ad ansoor dou, tra loayr mee roo ayns baarl? Cha leah’s cheayl ad yn Ghailck, heillagh peiagh dy row spyrryd noa sheidit stiagh ayndoo er-çheu sthie son v’ad lheimyragh, goaill kesmad, as cor-lheimyragh, streeu ry-cheilley, quoi yiogh hoshiaght dy yeeaghyn yn voayl dooin. | I thought at once of Manx, and I enquired of them why they did not answer me when I spoke to them in English. As soon as they heard Manx, you would have thought there was a new spirit blown into them, for they were jumping, pacing, and skipping, striving with each other over who would be the first to show us the place. | |
| Fei-yerrey, roish daag shin ad, vrie mee jeu row thie schoill ’syn naboonys oc dy ynsagh yn vaarl. “O, va,” dooyrt ad, “agh cha vel traa ain gholl huggey. Ta un ghuilley veg ayns shid ta goll, as ta baarl echey agh ta gailk share eckey, dooyrt eh.” | Finally, before we left them, I enquired of them if there was a school-house in their neighbourhood to learn English. “Oh, there was,” they said, “but we have no time to go to it. There is one little boy over yonder who goes, and he has English, but he has better Manx.” | |
| Tra va mee goll roym dy aagail ad— yeeagh yn er shinney jeu feer yennal seose ayns my eddin as lesh soill feer vitchooragh vrie eh jeem kys nagh loayr mee roo hoshiaght ooilley ayns Gailck? Agh roish va traa aym freggyrt eh, dooyrt eh roosyn va mygeayrt y mysh lesh lane yndys, “Agh quoi haillagh dooyrt eh dy beagh gailck ec mwannal vane.” | When I was about to leave them, the oldest of them looked very merrily up into my face, and, with a very rogueish eye, asked me why did I not speak to first of all in Manx; but before I had time to answer him, he said to those round about him, with much wonder, “But who would ever expect white collar (priest) to have Manx!” | |
| Ta mee dy slane credjal, Dawson, dy vel ny feedyn ’syn Ellan ain foast, ayns shid as ayns shoh chammah jehn’ aegid as y chenndiaght nagh vod lhaih Goo Yee edyr ayns Baarl ny Gailck. | I fully believe, Dawson, that there are scores in our Island still, yonder and here (here and there), both of the youth and the elderly (young and old) who cannot read God’s Word either in English or Manx. | |
| Nish ga dy vel yn ghailek bunnys ersooyl (as roee hig ee ’nane j’eh ny laghyn shoh) shickyr ta shin ooilley credjal dy lhisagh dy chooilley unnane ve ynsit dy lhaih Goo Yee ’sy ghlare shen share toiggal to’c jeh. Fys feer vie t’aym’s dy jinnagh adsyn ter ve troggit ’sy ghailek veihn chlean, myr dy beagh eh, gynsagh dy lhaih ayns gailck ayns kierroo ’n traa ayn ynsagh ad yn vaarl e-yn oyr dy chooilley ockle ta’d gynsagh dy lhaih, ta’d toiggal ro laue. | Now, although Manx is almost gone (and of she’ll go one of these days), surely we all believe that every one should be taught to read God’s Word in that language that they have the best understanding of. Very well do I know that those who have been raised in Manx from the cradle would, if it were to be, learn to read in Manx in a quarter of the time in which they would learn English, for the reason that every word that they learn to read they understand beforehand. | |
| Shoh n ynrican vondeish, chouds ta mish abyl dy ghoaill tastey je’h, yinnagh girree ass gynsagh ooilley adsyn nagh vel schoill oc ’syn Elian dy ve ynsit dy lhaih Goo Yee ayns Chengey ny-mayrey, yinnagh leeideil dys saualtys nynanmeenyn. Cha vel mee coyrlagh oo dy ghoaill tastey jeh red erbee nagh, vel mee hene er n’gholl ny hrooid as er phrowal. | This is the only advantage as far as I am able to observe it, that would arise out of teaching those that don’t have schooling in the Island to be taught to read God’s Word in the native tongue, would lead to the salvation of their souls. I am not advising you to take notice of anything that I have not myself gone through and tested. | |
| Roish va mee feed blayn dy eash va da schoill Ghailchagh aym ayns skeerey Yerbey as keead dy lieh (150) schoillar ayndoo—paayrt jeu va oe-yn oc. | Before I was twenty years of age I had two Manx Language schools in Jurby parish with one hundred and fifty students in them—some of whom had grandchildren. | |
| Ga, son y chooid smoo, cha row monney ynsagh oc roish shen—ny-yeih va paayrt jeu oddagh lhaih yn vaarl feer vie. Agh te yindyssagh cre’n taitnys ghow shenn as aeg ayns gynsagh dy lhaih yn Ghailck—as ve oc bunnys chelleragh, er-yn-oyr dy rou ad toiggal dy chooilley ockle v’ad gynsaghey. Hie ymmadee jeu lurg shen dys America—cur lhieu nyn ynsagh ghailckagh maroo ta tannaghtyn ny vud oc gys y laa t’ayn jiu. | Though, for the most part, they didn’t have much education before that—nevertheless there were some of them who could read English very well. But it is wonderful how much the old and young enjoyed learning to read Manx—and they got it almost immediately, because they understood every word they were taught. Many of them went afterwards to America—bringing their Manx education with them, which remains amongst them unto this day. | |
| Va ymmodee jeusyn myrgeddin, duirree ec y thie, ghow rish er nyn lhiabbee-vaaish, dy re yn taitnys ghow ad ayns lhaih yn Ghailck hug orroo dy chooilley fa dy lhiah ayrn ny ayrn ennagh je Goo Yee as ren fei-yerrey leeideel ad gys Creest nyn Saualtagh, son leih-peccaghyn as credjue bio ’syn ennym eckey. Va shiartanse jeu, tra detlee nyn anmeenyn thie dys Jee, as y lioar chasherick shen ayn ghow ad wheesh dy haitnys dy lhaih ayns nyn ghlare ghooie hene ry-gheddyn ny lhie rish y lhiattee oc, tra van spyrryd ersooyl. | There were many of them too who stayed at the house, who admitted on their deathbeds, that the pleasure they got in reading in Manx gave them every reason to read part, or some part of the Word of God and finally led them to Christ their saviour, for forgiveness of sins and living faith in his name. There were some of them, when their souls flew home to God, with that holy book they enjoyed ro much to read in their own native language to be found lying by their side, when the spirit had gone. | |
| Shen-y-fa my vel yn yeearree chreeoil ayd dy ynsagh sleih dy lhaih Goo Yee ayns Gailck, glare va’d cliaghtey toiggal foddey share na’n vaarl— my she er coontey dy hayrn sleih dys tushtey dy Yee trooid Chreest, dy vel oo laccal aa-vioghey yn Ghailck ta paartail feer happee— cre smoo oddym’s y ghra rhyt na ta mee, agh gra agh shoh: | Therefore, if it is your heartfelt desire to teach people to read the Word of God in Manx, a language they used to understand far better than English—if it is on account of drawing people to knowledge of God through Christ that you want to revive Manx that is departing (passing away) very quickly—what more can I say to you than I have, but this: | |
| Aigh-vie dy row lhiat, markee er dty hoshiaght er coontey yn Ghoo dy irrinys, dy veenid, as dy chairys, as dy der yee dhyt e vannaght. | May you have good luck, ride ahead in consideration of the Word of truth, of humility, and of righteousness, and God will give you his blessing. | |
| Amen. | Amen. | |
| YUAN HOMASE MC-Y-CHLEREE , | JOHN THOMAS CLARKE, | |
| 'Sy Thalloo Vretnagh. | In Wales. | |
| February 16th, 1872. | February 16th, 1872. | |