| Manx | English | |
|---|---|---|
| Tammylt beg er dy henney va mee ronsaghey ny hrooid[1] shenn “Vrialtee Ellan Vannin” ’sy Thie Tashtee[2] ayns Doolish. | I little while ago I was researching through old “Isle of Man Examiners” in the Manx Museum[3] in Douglas. | |
|
[1] ny hrooid] ‘through it’ – ‘trooid’ (‘through’) would have been expected here.
[2] Thie tashtee] ‘treasury’, ‘repository’, etc. used as a nickname for the Manx Museum, and sometimes given as a straight translation of ‘museum’ from the late twentieth century onwards.
[3] Thie Tashtee] ‘Storehouse’ also the nickname, that became the official Manx name for The Manx Museum.
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| Va mee shirrey fys mychione oanluckey my henn ayr Evan Crebbin voish Bradda, hooar baase ayns Toshiaght Arree 1933. | I was searching for information about the burial of my grandfather, Evan Crebbin from Bradda, who died in the February 1933. | |
| Hooar mee yn pabyr naight kiart fy yerrey, as ayns shen, cred-jee ny dyn, va ny kione-linnaghyn shoh “MANX LANGUAGE’S LAST GASP!” | I found the right newspaper eventually, and there, believe (it) or not, were these headlines; “MANX LANGUAGE’S LAST GASP!” | |
| She skeeal v’ayn mychione Yn Olloo Marstrander cheet gys Creneash dy akin Harry Kelly dy gheddyn fys mychione y Ghailck. | It was a report about Professor Marstrander coming to Cregneash to see Harry Kelly to get information about Manx. | |
| Smooinnee bunnys ooilley ny Manninee ec y traa shen nagh row fer erbee ayn as Gailck flaaoil echey. | Almost all the Manx at that time thought there was no one with fluent Manx. | |
| Cha row fys ayn dy row Gailck flaaoil ec Ned as Y Gaaue as ooilley’n shenn sleih elley bione da’n cheeloghe aym pene feed vlein ny s’anmee. | It wasn’t known that Ned and the Gaaue had fluent Manx, and all the other old people known to my own generation twenty years later. | |
| Ec y traa shen, bwooise da Jee, va Manninagh aeg jeidagh ayn as graih echey er chengey ny mayrey, dooinney aeg v’eh as eshyn gobbragh da’n Ard Vaylee Percy Kelly ayns Straid Atholl, Doolish, raad hooar eh Gailck voish yn Ard Vaylee hene, agh erskyn ooilley, voish e charrey Harry Kelly, Creneash. | At that time, thank God, their was a prudent young Manxman who loved the mother-tongue, he was a young man he worked for the High-Bailliff Percy Kelly in Atholl Street, Douglas, where he acquired Manx from the High-Bailliff himself, but above all, from his friend Harry Kelly of Cregneash. | |
| She Markys Braide v’ayn, as ta Markys foast chyndaa ny leihaghyn ayns Gailck cour yn Ard Vriw tra t’ad goll y ’ockley magh er Cronk Keeill Eoin, Laa Tinvaal. | It was Mark Braide, and Mark still translates the laws into Manx for the Deemster when they are promulgated on Tynwald Hill on Tynwald Day. | |
| Va enney ny share ec Markys er Harry Kelly na v’ec peiagh erbee elley as ta shin ooilley slane kianglt bwooisal[4] da son y skeeal shoh, as skeeal mie t’eh dy jarroo. Er hoh diu eh, ayns focklyn Varkysh hene. | Mark knew Harry Kelly better that anyone and we are all fully obliged to him for this story, and a good story it is too. Here it is for you, in Mark’s own words. | |
|
[4] kianglt bwooise] text gives
[kianglt bwooisal]
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| ‘Breagagh’[5] | ‘Breagagh’ | |
|
[5] Breagagh] A nom de plume used by Douglas (Doug) Fargher (aka. Doolish y Karagher).
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| 12/02/1977 | 12/02/1977 | |
| HARRY KELLY | HARRY KELLY | |
| Te er ve feer taitnyssagh dou, as, ta mee shickyr, kiart cha taitnyssagh da studeyryn elley dy lhaih ’sy Rollage Vanninagh ayns yn colloo “Noon as Noal” scruit ec ‘Breagagh’, ny skeealyn mychione ny shenn Vanninee — ny loayreyderyn dooghyssagh jeh’n chenn ghlare. | It has been very enjoyable for me, and, I am sure, just as enjoyable for other students to read in the Manx Star, in the column “Noon as Noal” (“To and Fro”) written by ‘Breagagh’, the stories about the old Manx — the native speakers of the old language. | |
| Dys ny deiney shoh (as mraane neesht) ta shin fo lhiastynys mooar, as nish tra t’ad ooilley chymsit dys ny shennayraghyn ocsyn te agh kiart dooin dy yannoo eab dy hoilshaghey nyn mwooise da’n chooinaghtyn jeu, liorish soaighey sheese recortys jeh ny mraane as deiney shoh. | To these men (and women too), we are greatly indebted, and now when they are all gathered to their ancesters it is only right for us to make an effort to shoh our gratitude for the memories of them, by setting down a record of these men and women. | |
| Ta Harry Kelly, Cregneash, nane jeh’n cheshaght vannit shoh as huitt eh dys y chronney ayms dy ve ainjyssagh rish. | Harry Kelly of Cregneash is one of this blessed company and it fell to my fate to be acquanted with him. | |
| Er lhiam nagh vel pyagh erbee elley ayn jiu dy voddagh gra, “Ren mee gynsaghey Gaelg voish meillyn Harry Kelly,” as shen y fa te ny lhie orrym dy cur sheese fockle ny ghaa mychione y dooinney as e ynnyd vea.[6] | I don’t think there is any one else today who can say “I learnt Manx from the lips of Harry Kelly,” and that is why it depends upon me to put down a word or two about the man and his life and his dwelling place. | |
|
[6] ynnyd vea] evidently the meaning here is ‘dwelling place’. Elswhere ‘ynnyd veaghee’ / ‘ynnyd vaghee’.
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| Te nish ny smoo na queig blein as daeed neayr’s veeit mee eh as lurg whilleen bleeantyn foddee ta my aachooinaghtyn er n’aase faase, agh cha nel mee credjal shen. | It is now more that forty-five years since I met him and after so many years maybe my recollections have weakened, but I don’t believe that. | |
| Dooys ta ny aachooinaghtyn shen kiart cha birragh as cha gial my[7] haghyr ad nurree. | To me those recollections are just as sharp and as bright as if they happened last year. | |
|
[7] My] evidently a misprint for ‘myr’ — ‘as’.
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| Ta enney ec dy chooilley lhaihder er Thie Harry Kelly, as cha nhyrrys. | Every reader knows Harry Kelly’s house, and no wonder. | |
| Ta co-caslysyn jee ry-akin er Lioaryn-Imbee, caartyn yn Nollick as er nyn gloughyn-phost, agh var-a-mish cha beagh enney ec Harry er e hie hene ec y laa t’ayn jiu. | There are pictures of it to be seen on Calenders, Christmas cards and on the postage stamps, but I guarantee Harry wouldn’t recognise his own house these days. | |
| T’ee er ve caghlaait ass towse agh ’sy thie shen cheau mee ymmodee ooryn maynrey. | It has been changed beyond measure, but in that house I spent many happy hours. | |
| Ec y Chingeesh ’sy vlein 1930 ren mee markiaght er “cabbyl yiarn”[8] dys Balley Chashtal as ayns shen veeit mee rish my charrey Bob Harrison. | At Whitsuntide in the year 1930 I rode on an ‘iron horse’ to Castletown and there I met my friend Bob Harrison. | |
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[8] cabbyl yiarn] ‘iron horse’ – ‘bicycle’. Mark Braide was a keen cyclist as well as footballer.
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| V’eshyn gobbraghey son pabyr niaght as va’n ‘rheam’ echey y clane jiass jeh’n Ellan. | He was working for a a newspaper and his ‘realm’ was the whole of the south of the Island. | |
| Myr shen va seyrsnys echey dy rouail mygeayrt ny ardjyn sodjey-magh jeh’n rheam shoh jeeassyragh naightyn fegooish lhiettrymys. | So he had freedom to wander around the the further-out regions of this realm gleening news without hinderence. | |
| Ec y traa shen va mee kiarit dy ynsaghey Gaelg as va mee shickyr dy liooar dy beagh fer ennagh faagit ayns Cregneash as y Gaelg echey. | At that time I was planning to learn Manx and I was quite sure that there would be someone left in Cregneash with Manx. | |
| Cha s’ayms kys haink yn yeearree dy ynsaghey Gaelg. | I don’t know how the desire to learn Manx came. | |
| Cha row un ’ockle ec pyagh erbee ’sy lught thie ain, eer ec my yishag vooar as eshyn ny shenn ghooinney, agh haink ee orrym doaltattym as voish y traa shen magh ren ee mish y leeideil ayns ymmodee buill as veeit mee rish ymmodee sleih. | There wasn’t one word at anyone in our family, even my grandfather and he was an old man, but it came upon me suddenly and from that time forth it led mee in many places and I met my people. | |
| Sleih yindyssagh v’ad as cha bee ad dy bragh jarrooit ayms. | Wonderful people they were and they will not be forgotten by me. | |
| Hie Bob as mee hene hug y jiass as ayns traa cooie va shin goaill bine dy lhune losserey cheu mooie thie-thooit ’sy valley beg Cregneash son va chiass mie ayn as va shin gollish lurg yn laboraght ain. | Bob and myself went to the south and in due time we were taking a drop of herb beer outside a thatched house in the village of Cregneash, because there was a good heat (it was hot), and we were sweating after our work. | |
| Denee mish voish ben y thie, “Nee ben Vanninagh oo?” | I asked from the landlady, “Are you a Manxwoman?” | |
| “Cha nee,” dooyrt ee, “agh ta my heshey ny ghooinney Manninagh.” | “No,” she said, “but my husband is a Manxman.” | |
| “Nod eh loayrt Gaelg?” va’n nah feysht, as dreggyr ee, “Cha nod.” | “Can he speak Manx?” was the second question, and she answered, “No”. | |
| Cha row shoh toshiaght mie, ny feer ymmydoil edyr. | That was not a good start, or very useful at all. | |
| Eisht dooyrt ee, “Ta shenn ghooinney beaghey ayns shid hoal as ta Gaelg vie echey.” | Then she said, “There’s an old man living yonder and he has very good Manx.” | |
| Ta shen ny share, smooinee mee, agh hie ee er, “Cha nel eh ymmyd erbee diu dy gholl geiyrt er son cha nel eh laccal dy ve boirit rish[9] joarreeyn.” | That’s better I thought, but she went on, “It is no use at all for you to go following him because he doesn’t want to be bothered by strangers.” | |
|
[9] boirit rish] the expected idiom here is
[boirit lesh] ‘bothered by’.
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| Ny yeih, daag shin y ven as hooyl shin heese[10] y traid agh cha row pyagh erbee elley ry-akin. | Nevertheless, we left the woman and we walked down the street, but there was no one else in sight. | |
|
[10] heese] ‘down’,’under’, ‘below’.
[sheese] would expected here (with a verb of movement).
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| Va dy chooilley nhee cha feagh as kiune ve gollrish balley beg fadaneagh er lhimmey son snaie dy yaagh bane troggal seose jeeragh ’syn aer ass chymlee. | Everything was so restful and calm, it was like a deserted village except for a thread of white smoke rising up straight in the air out of a chimney. | |
| Ayns haggard va paart dy chiarkyn screebey ayns aght lhag chreeagh er thorran as va moddey ny lhie ny cadley fo chreeagh[11]. | In a farmyard barn there were some hens scratching in a despondent way on a midden and there was a dog lying asleep under a rick. | |
|
[11] Creeagh]
[creagh] – a ‘stack’ or ‘rick’ of turf, or hay.
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| Ghooisht eh as yeeagh eh orrin agh v’eh ro litcheragh dy irree, eer dy ghounstyrnee as cur raaue da’n eirinagh dy row joarreeyn ayn. | He woke and he looked at us but he was too lazy to rise, even to bark and give a warning to the farmer that there were strangers. | |
| Eisht cheayll shin thassane choraaghyn as lurg goll er tammylt beg va fys ain dy row paart dy leih ayns tholtan ec cass yn ughtagh ta leeideil dys Cronk ny h’Arrey. | Then we heard a murmur of voices and after going on a little while we knew that there were some people in a ruined house at the foot of the rise that led to Cronk ny h’Arrey. | |
| Va troor dy gheiney ayns shen as mysh shey ny shiaght kirree jeig. | There were three men there and about sixteen or seventeen sheep. | |
| V’ad lommyrt ny kirree cheu-chooylloo son lurg gee yn aiyr noa va’d broighit lesh keck as ayns gaue dy ve goit ec y carchuillag. | They were shearing the sheep outside because after eating the new grass they were soiled with shit and in danger of being ‘taken by the fly’ (suffer fly strike). | |
| Va’n dooinney saa mysh queig bleeantyn as feed dy eaysh (va shen Juan Kinleoie), yn nah ghooinney (Thobm Kelly) mysh dooble yn eaysh shen, as y fer shinney (Harry Kelly ) v’eh jeeaghyn dou dy ve mysh kiare feed blein dy eaysh. | The younger man was about twenty-five years of age (that was Juan Kinley), the second man (Tom Kelly about double that age, and the oldest one (Harry Kelly) — he seemed to me to be about eighty years of age. | |
| Dy jarroo, smooinee mee, ta mee shickyr dy vel eh shen Manninagh dooie as shegin da ve Gaelg echey. | Indeed, I thought, I’m sure that he there is a native Manxman and he must have Manx. | |
| Va’n shenn ghooinney mysh queig trieyn as reaish er yrjid as v’eh ceau bayrn keeir, cooat feer liauyr as troosyn gorrym lhean.[12] | The old man was about five feet and a span (192cm / 6’3”) in height and he was wearing a dark cap, a very long coat and wide blue trousers. | |
|
[12] gorrym lhean] ‘wide blue’ almost certainly a typo for
[gorrym lheeah] ‘grey-blue’ — the traditional colour of Manx woolen woven cloth.
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| Fo’n vayrn va daa hooill gial jeeaghyn magh voish eddin combaasit lesh faasaag lheeah vollagh. | Under the cap were two bright eyes looking out from a face encircled with a very shaggy grey beard. | |
| V’eh cummal piyr dy youishyn ayns e laue yesh as honnick mee dy row ny juntyn ec baare e ordaagyn croymmit cour ny meir lheid as ta mee er n’akin ec paart dy eeasteyryn. | He was holding a pair of shears in his right hand and I saw that the joints at the tops of his thumbs were bent downwards towards the fingers such as I have seen some fishermen have. | |
| Va my charrey Bob taggloo son minnidyn liauyrey rish Thobm Kelly (son va enn echey er) er cooishyn bentyn rish Barrantee Purt Noo Moirrey — va Thobm ny Barrantagh — as heill mee dy row oyr nyn thurrys jarroodit. | My friend Bob was talking for long minutes to Tom Kelly (because he knew him) about matters concerning Port St. Mary commissioners — Tom was a commissioner — and I supposed the reason for our trip was forgotten. | |
| Fy yerrey denee my charrey jeh, | Finally I asked my friend, | |
| “Vel piagh erbee ayns y valley beg shoh ta taggloo Gaelg?" | “Is there anyone in this village who speaks Manx?” | |
| Cha row sheean ry chlashtyn. | There was no audible sound. | |
| Hrog Thobm e volleeyn (as molleeyn chiu doo v’ad) as loayr eh ny goan cheddin dy meeley myr rish hene, eisht hyndaa eh gys e heshaghyn as vrie eh jeu. | Tom raised his eyebrows (and thick black eyebrows they were) and he spoke the same words softly as if to himself, then he turned to his partners and he asked them. | |
| Yeeagh ad yn derrey yeh er y jeh elley, as eisht, lesh un aigney, chrie ad nyn ging. | They looked at one another and then, with one accord, they shook their heads. | |
| Hyndaa Thobm Kelly rooin, | Tom Kelly turned to us, | |
| “Cha nel,” dooyrt eh, “Cha nel Gaelg erbee loayrit ayns shoh nish, shirr jee ayns Purt Noo Moirrey.” | “No,” he said, “there’s no Manx spoken here now, look for it in Port St Mary.” | |
| Va shoh naight trimshagh as bunnys erskyn credjue agh son shoh as ooilley va ourys aym dy row eh ginsh breag. | This was sad news and almost beyond belief, but for all that, I had a suspicion that he was telling a lie. | |
| Lurg faagail yn tholtan, as gennaghtyn mollit, veeit shin rish dooinney coamrit myr saggyrt ny hassoo ec giat cheu mooie jeh thie thooit. | After leaving the ruined house, and feeling disappointed, we met a man dressed like a vicar standing at a gate outside of the thatched house. | |
| Va ennym “Cummal beg” scruit erskyn dorrys y hie[13] as va shoh leshtal dooin dy stappal as taggloo rish, jannoo imraa jeh’n eilkin ain. | The name ‘Cummal beg’ (‘Small dwelling’) was written above the door of the house and this was an excuse for us to stop and talk to him, making mention of our mission. | |
|
[13] dorrys y hie] ‘the door of his house’.
[dorrys e thie’] would be expected here — (
[e] ‘his’ is usually
[y] in Ned Beg Hom Ruy’s work).
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| Va’n ennym echey Cooke as dooyrt eh rooin ayns aght fastagh dy row eh yn cliaghtey echey dy lhaih y Vible Manninagh gagh laa. | His name was Cooke and he said to us in a pensive way that it was his custom to read the Manx Bible every day. | |
| “Dy jarroo,” dooyrt mee, “ta shen yindyssagh son ta mee credjal dy vel oo dty Hostynagh liorish dty hengey. | “Really?” I said, “that’s wonderful because I believe you are an Englishman by your tongue (accent). | |
| Va shin jerkal dy chlashtyn Gaelg goll er loayrt ayns shoh agh dinsh ad dooin nagh vel pyagh taggloo Gaelg nish.” | We were expecting to hear Manx being spoken here but they told us that no one speaks Manx now.” | |
| (ry hannaghtyn) | (to be continued) | |