Mannin Veg Veen

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Manx English
O Vannin-veg-veen, O dear little Mann,
T’ayns mean y cheayn, That’s in the middle of the Sea,
Ayn jee ta lane easteyryn. There are many fishermen.
Tra ta’n oayrn cuirt. When the barley is sown,
As ny praasyn soit, And the potatoes set,
Goll roin dy cherragh nyn maatyn. Going on to fix our boats.
Son y Feailoin, For the St John’s fair,
Bee mayd goll roin, We’ll go on our way,
Dy yeeaghyn, son warpyn skeddan ; To look for warps of herrings,
Heear ’y chione rouayr, West of Contrary Head,
Lesh jurnaa liauyr, Towards a long journey,
Goaill neose nyn shiauïll fo’n Charron. Taking down our sais under the Carron.[1]
[1] Headland near Bradda.
Heear ec y veaïn, West at the mine,[2]
[2] Fishing mark off Bradda Mine.
Shiaulley dy meen, Sailing patiently,
Yn tidey keayrt va noi ain, The tide once was against us,
Stiagh dys Purt-Chiarn, Into Port Erin,
Dy yeeaghyn ny mraane, To watch the women,
Dy phaagey nyn myrneenyn. To kiss our girlfriends.
Goll veih thie dy hie, Going from house to house,
Jeeaighyn son jough-vie Looking for good drink,
Cha row ny lheid ry-gheddyn, The like was not to be found,
Eisht hrog shin shiaull, Then we raised our sail,
Erskyn nyn gione, Above our heads,
As hie shin son y gheaylin. And we went for the shoulder.[3]
[3] Fishing mark off the Calf.
Heear ec yn Chiark, West at the Hen,[4]
[4] Fishing mark off the Calf.
Magh ec yn Chleaït, Forth from the Clett,[5]
[5] Fishing mark ‘Clett yn Vurroo’ off the Calf.
Yn cheayn va gatt as freayney, The sea was swelling and choppy,
Roish rosh shin tidey, Before we reached the tide,
Yn Chiggin vooar, Of Great Chicken Rock,
Daa ghooinney gollish teaymey. Two men were teaming sweat.
Goll seose y roayrt, Going up the spring tide,
Ta deiney loayrt, Men are talking,
As mennic fliughey nyn lieckan, And often wetting their cheeks
Yn fload va roin, The fleet that was before us,
As foddey voin, And far from us,
Adsyn shegin dooin y gheddin. We have to find them.
Tra ren shin feddyn, When we found,
’S yn fload er gheddyn, And found the fleet,
Nagh row ad shen lesh phrowal, Weren’t they with proof,[6]
[6] When signs suggested the presence of a shoal in an area the sighting was tested, and if a shoal was found then the crew would have to inform any nearby boats that they were lesh prowal – ‘in possession of proof’.
Tra cheayl shin oc, When we heard from them,
Ny skeayllyn voc, The reports they had,
Nagh cheau shin voïn yn famman. Didn’t we cast off our net.[7]
[7] famman—‘tail’ the ‘net’ that trails behind the boat.
Tra va’n shibber eït, When the supper was eaten,
As yn ushtey roït, And the water run out,
As ooilley jeant dy baghtal. And all plainly finished,
Hie shin dy ronsagh, We went to explore,
Row yn eeast veg fondagh, Was the little fish evidently,
Dy heet roue hoïn dy aghtal. To come smartly on its way to us.
Roish brishey ’n laa, Before daybreak,
Hug shin magh coraa, We gave out voice,
Cha leahs’ va shin lesh phrowal, As soon as we had proof
Eisht yn chied saagh, Then the first vessel,
Haink hooin dy booiagh, Came gratefully to us,
Dansoor shin ee dy lowal. We answered her lawfully[8].
[8] ‘lawfully’—Manx fishermen were obliged by law to notify other boats of the fleet of sightings of shoals.
Ec brishey’n laa, At daybreak,
Ve kiune as rea, It was calm and flat,
Va’n cheayn goll-rish traie gheinnee. The sea was like a sandy beach.
Dy chooilley hiaull, Every sail
V’ou fakin goll, You were seeing go,
Gyllagh jeeagh magh son Wherree. Calling out “Look out for the Wherree”.[9]
[9] wherree—a larger ship or barge that collected fish from the fleet to take to market. (English; 'wherry'.)
Er y vaïe vooar, On the Big Bay,
Va sterrym dy liooar, There was storm enough,
Lesh earish fluigh as fliaghey, With wet and rainy weather,
Skeddan dy glen, Herrings cleanly,
Yiogh shin ayns shen, We would have got there,
Bey’n[10] ghobbag as y vuic-varrey.3 Were it not for the dogfish and the porpoises.[11]
[10] Almost certainly er-be ‘where it not for’.
[11] muc-varrey ‘sea hog’ (porpoise).
Toshiaght yn ouyr, The start of the Autumn,
Bee’n oie gaase liauyr, The nights will be growing long,
Faag mayd nyn mannaght ec y Chiggin We’ll leave out blessing at the Chicken
Hig mayd eisht roin, We’ll come away then,
Dys Doolish ny lhong, To Douglas of the ships,
’S bee giense ain ayns thie Whiggin.[12] And we’ll have a party at Quiggin’s house.
[12] Thie Whiggin—‘Quiggin’s House’. A large printing house and Inn at 52 North Quay in Douglas, later known as ‘The Clarendon’.
Ayns thie Whiggin Vooar, In Quiggin’s big house,
Ta jough dy liooar, There’s enough drink,
Marish palchey lhune as liggar, With plenty of ale and liquor
As lhiabbee-vie, And a good bed,
Dy gholl dy lhie, To go to bed,
Tra vees mayd lesh nyn shibber. When will have had our supper,
Bee paayrt cheet thie, Some will be coming home,
Fegooish naight vie, Without good news,
T’an snaïe oït ec y ghobbag, Their line eaten by the dogfish,
Ny mraane-oast hene, The landladies themselves,
Goaill chymmey jin, Taking sympathy for them,
S’gra, ta caart ain foast ’sy vullag. And saying “There’s still a quart in the barrel.