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Nish ta mee rouail noon as noal,
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Now I wander to and fro,
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Ayns çheer nagh vel aym urree oayl,
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In a land that I am not familiar with,
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As ta mee nish gaase lheeah as shenn,
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And I am now growing grey and old,
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Fegooish lane gerjagh ny lane gien.
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Without much comfort, or much cheer
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Tayrit, ersooyl voish Mannin veen,
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Caught, away from dear Mannin,
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My ellan veg ayns mean y cheayn,
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My little island in the middle of the sea,
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Raad ta my Ayraghyn goaill aash,
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Where my ancestors rest,
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Ny lhie ayns oghrish yn vaase.
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Lying in the bosom of death.
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