⇦ Skeeal yn Eean Thunnag Graney

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Manx	English
Skeeal yn Eean Thunnag Graney	The Tale of the Ugly Duckling.
(cadjinit)	(translation of Ned Beg’s version)
V’eh fastyr feer aalin ayns imbagh yn ouyr ayns yn çheer as va’n arroo chreen as yn traagh fiojit seose ayns dossanyn ayns ny lheeantyn jeeaghyn feer stoamey. Va’n choar vane shooyl mygeayrt lesh e lurgaghyn liauyr jiarg, taggloo ayns glare ny hEgyptianee, v’ee er n’ynsaghey voish e Moir.	It was a beautiful afternoon in the season of the harvest in the countryside, and the cornfields were ripe, and the withered hay, up in bunches in the meadows, were looking very grand. The stork was parading about with his long red legs, chattering away in the Egyptian, that she had learned from her mother.
Va ny maghryn as lheeantyn combaasit lesh keyll mooar as ayns y vean va loghan mooar dy ushtey.	The fields and meadows were encompassed by a large forest, and in the middle of the forest was a deep lake of water.
Ayns boayl grainagh va shenn thie erinagh ny hassoo er gerrey da’n awin. Voish yn thie sheesh gys yn ushtey va dulliagyn mooarey geayney gaase cha ard as dy vod dagh lhiannoo beg shassoo jeeraght fo’n scaadoo oc.	In a sunny spot stood a old farmhouse circled near to the river. From the house down to the water there were great vivid green leaves, so high that a little child might stand upright under their shade.
Va’n boayl cha fadane as çhesh-vean yn cheyll.	The spot was as isolated as the very centre of the forest.
Ayns yn ynnyd shen va thunnag ny hoie guirr, freayl arrey gys yinnagh ny hêin aegey çheet ass ny hoohyn. V’ee goaill toshiaght dy aase skee son va’n feallagh veggey tra liauyr çheet ass ny hoohyn.	In that place a duck was sat brooding, watching out until her young chicks would hatch out of the eggs. She was starting to grow tired because the little ones were so long coming out of their shells.
Ec y jerrey ren unnane jeh ny hoohyn brishey. as eisht unnane elley, as magh ass dagh ooh haink cretoor beg bio ren troggal seose e chione as gra “Peep. peep.”	At last, one of the shells cracked, and soon another, and from each egg came a little living creature that lifted up its head and said “Peep, peep.”
“Quank, quank!” dooyrt yn voir, as eisht ren ad ooilley quankal chammah as foddagh ad as jeeaghyn mygeayrt er dy chooilley heu er ny duillagyn mooarey geayney. Ren yn voir lowal daue dy yeeaghyn wheesh as bailleu er yn oyr dy row geayney mie son ny sooillyn.	“Quack, quack!” said the mother; and then they all quaked as well as well as they could, while they looked around on every side at the big green leaves. Their mother allowed them to look as much as they liked, because green was good for the eyes.
“S’mooar ta’n seihll,” dooyrt ny thunnagyn aegey, tra hooar ad magh cre woad smoo dy reamys v’ayn ny v’ayns ny hoohyn tra v’ad çheu sthie jeu.	“What a great world it is,” said the young ducks, when they found how much more room there was than there was in the eggshells when they were inside them.
“Vel shiu coontey shoh yn slane seihll?” dooyrt yn voir. “Farkee[1] shiu gys nee shiu fakin yn uhllin as yn garey. Ta’d sheeney magh gys magher yn saggyrt. Vel shiu ooilley mooie?” dooyrt ee, girree seose dy yeeaghyn. “Cha vel ny-yeih; ta’n ooh smoo ayns shoh foast. Ta mee goaill yindys cre choud as ta shoh dy hassoo. Ta mee skee dy liooar jeh traa t’ayn;” agh ren ee soie sheese er yn ooh reesht.	“Is this all the world, do you imagine?” said the mother. “Wait till you see the farmyard and the garden. They stretch down to the priest’s field. Are you all out?” she said, rising to look. “Not yet; the largest egg is still here. I wonder how long this is to last. I’m tired enough of it now,”” but she sat down on the egg again.
“Cre’n aght ta shiu geddyn er?” dooyrt shenn thunnag va er jeet dy akin ee.	“How are you getting on?” said an old duck who came to see her.
“Ta un ooh nagh vel guirt foast,” dooyrt ee. “Cha jean ee brishey. Agh jeeagh shiu er y chooid elley. Nagh vel ad ny thunnagyn beggey s’aalin ren shiu rieau fakin? T’ad co-caslys nyn ayr— ta cha neu-ghoogysagh, nagh vel eh dy bragh çheet dy chur shilley orrym!”	“There’s one egg that isn’t hatched yet,” she said. “It will not break. But look at the rest. Aren’t they the prettiest little ducklings you ever saw? They are the image of their father— who is so unfeeling that he doesn’t ever come to visit me!”
“Lhig dou fakin yn ooh nagh jean brishey,” dooyrt yn çhenn thunnag. “Cha vel dooyt erbee. nagh re ooh turkey ee. Va mish er ny chleayney dy guirr paart jeu keayrt, as lurg ooilley my charail as deinys rish ny feallagh aegey v’ad ayns aggle dy gholl ayns yn ushtey. Ren mee quankal as cluckal agh ooilley ayns fardail. Cha voddin geddyn ad dy gholl ayns yn ushtey. Lhig dou jeeaghyn er yn ooh. She ooh turkey ee shen. Gow my coyrle as faag e raad t’ee as ynsee ny paitçhyn elley dy snaue ayns yn ushtey.	“Let me see the egg that will not break,” said the old duck. “There is no doubt. Isn’t it a turkey egg. I was enticed into hatching some of them once, and after all my care and weariness for the young folk they were afraid to go oin the water. I quacked and clucked, but all to no purpose. I couldn’t get them to go in the water. Let me look at the egg. That is a turkey egg. Take my advice leave it where it is and teach the other children to swim in the water.”
“Ta mee kiarail dy hoie urree tammylt beg elley,” dooyrt yn thunnag. “Myr ta mee er hoie choud dy hraa rolaue cha bee red beg dy laghyn elley veg.”	“I’m planning to sit on it a little while longer,” said the duck. “As I have sat so long before, a few days more won’t be anything.”
“Gow dty choyrle hene,” dooyrt yn çhenn thunnag, as hie roie er e raad hene.	“Very well, please yourself,” said the old duck, and she went her own way..
Ec y jerrey ren yn ooh vooar brishey, as ren eean snaue magh, geam “Peep, peep.” V’eh feer vooar as graney! Ren yn çhenn thunnag goaill baght jeh as gra “T’eh feer vooar as graney as cha vel eh goll-rish yn chooid elley ayns ayrn erbee. Ta mee ayns yindys nee turkey eh ny dyn. Agh nee mayd fakin ayns traa gerrid, tra hig mayd gys yn ushtey. Shegin da goll ayn my she puttey eh ayn nee’m hene.”	At last the great egg broke, and the chick crawled forth, calling “Peep, peep”. He was very big and ugly! The mother duck stared at him and said. “It’s very big and ugly and it is not at all like any of the others. I wonder if he is a turkey or not. Well, we shall see in a short while, when we get to the water— He must go in, even if I push him in myself.”
Er yn nah laa va’n ghrian soilshean dy sollys, as ren yn voir thunnag goaill ad gys yn ushtey as lheim ayn ec cheayrt. “Quank. Quank!” dooyrt ee, as fer lurg fer elley ren ny thunnagyn beggey lheim ayn. Ren yn ushtey coodagh nyn ghing, agh haink ad seose reesht as snaue ad mygeayrt feer aghtal, geiyrt ad hene lesh nyn gassyn aashagh dy liooar; as va’n eean thunnag graney myrgeddin ayns yn ushtey, snaue mygeayrt ayns yn ushtey.	On the next day Tte sun shone brightly, and the mother duck took them to the water and jumped at once. “Quack, quack!” she said, and one after another the little ducklings jumped in. The water covered their heads, but they came up again and swam about very abley, driving themselves with their legs easy enough, and the ugly duckling was also in the water, swimming around in the water.
“Ah,” dooyrt yn voir, “cha vel eh shen Turkey. Cre cha mie as t’eh gobbragh e chassyn, as cre cha jeeragh as t’eh cummal eh-hene. T’eh yn lhiannoo aym pene, as cha vel eh cha graney shen, lurg ooilley, myr nee shiu jeeaghyn dy mie er. Quank, quank! Tar-jee marym nish. as nee’m goaill shiu gys sheshaght oaasle mygeayrt thie yn erinagh. Agh shegin diu freayl feer faggys dou er yn oyr dy vod shiu ve stampit fo chosh; erskyn ooilley, bee-jee er nyn dwoaie jeh’n kayt.”	“Oh,” said the mother, “that is not a turkey. How well he uses his legs, and how erect he holds himself! He is my own child, and he is not that ugly after all, if you look at him properly. Quack, quack! Come with me now. I will take you to grand society around the the farmer’s house, but you must keep very close to me because you may be trodden underfoot; above all, beware of the cat.”
Tra ren ad roshtyn gys yn uhllin, va lane arganey ayn; daa lught-thie, streeu mysh kione astan, va ec y jerrey currit lesh ersooyl ec y chayt. “Jeeagh shiu paitçhyn, shoh myr ta cliaghtey yn seihll,” dooyrt yn voir thunnag, gushtagh e beeal, son veagh ee er ve booiagh geddyn yn kione astan ee hene. “Tar-jee nish. Obbree shiu nyn gassyn, as lhig dou fakin cre cha mie as foddee shiu ve. Shegin diu croymmey nyn ghing gys yn çhenn thunnag shid; t’ee yn nane s’ooasle er ny ruggey jeu ooilley, as jeh fuill Spaainagh; shen-y-fa, t’ee mie jeh. Nagh vel shiu fakin dy vel clooid jiarg kianlt mysh yn lurgey, ta red feer stoamey, as onnor mooar da thunnag; t’eh jeeaghyn dy vel ad ayns aggle jeh coayl ee as dy vod enney ve ec dooinney as baagh urree. Tar jee nish, as ny jean shiu çhynda nyn ordaagyn stiagh; agh skeayl shiu nyn gassyn foddey veih-my-chelley, goll-rish nyn ayr as nyn moir, er yn aght shoh, nish croym-jee nyn mwannal as abbyr-jee “Quank!”	When they reached the farmyard, there was a much argument going on; two families; fighting for an eel’s head, which, after all, was carried off by the cat. “See, children, that is the way of the world,” said the mother duck, whetting her beak, for she would have liked the eel’s head herself. “Come, now, use your legs, and let me see how well you can behave. You must bow your heads to that old duck yonder; she is the highest born of them all and has Spanish blood; therefore she is well off. Don’t you see she has a red rag tied to her leg, which is something very grand and a great honor for a duck; it shows that every one is anxious not to lose her, and that she may be noticed by both man and beast. Come, now, don’t turn in your toes; but spread your feet wide apart, just like your father and mother, in this way; now bend your necks and say ‘Quack!'”
Ren ny thunnagyn aegey jannoo myr ren ee gordrail daue, agh va ny thunagyn elley jeeaghyn dy geyre orroo, as gra rish y chelley, “Jeagh ayns shen, ta aalagh elley dy hunnagyn aegey çheet— myr nagh row dy liooar ayn ro-laue! As cre’n fer aitt fer jiu. Cha vel shin laccal eh shen ayns shoh,” as eisht ren unnane jeu getlagh magh as mingey eh er yn wannal.	The ducklings did as they were bade, but the other ducks stared at them, and said to each other, “Look there, another brood of ducklings are coming—as if there weren’t enough before! And what a queer one one of them is. We don’t want him there here”; and then one of them flew out and bit him on the neck.
“Faag void eh,” dooyrt y voir, “cha vel eh jannoo assee erbee.”	“Let him alone,” said the mother; “he is not doing any harm.”
“Ta, agh t’eh cha mooar as cha graney,” doort yn thunnag spiteoilagh, “as shegin da ve currit magh.”	“Yes, but he is so big and ugly,” said the spiteful duck, “and he must be turned out.”
“Ta ny paitçhyn elley feer aalin,” doyrt yn çhenn thunnag lesh yn chlooid jiarg er e cass. “Ooilley agh yn fer shen. Bare lhiam dy voddagh y voir jannoo eh red beg s’aalin.”	“The otherschildren are very pretty,” said the old duck with the red rag on her leg, “All but that one. I’d rather if his mother could make him a bit prettier.”
“Ta shen neu-phossible,” dooyrt yn voir. “Cha vel eh feer aalin, agh t’eh lhiannoo feer vie, as snaue ayns yn ushtey kiart cha mie as yn feallagh elley, as red beg share. Ta mish smooinaght dy jean eh gaase aalin foast. T’eh er ve rouyr traa ayns yn ooh, as shen yn oyr nagh vel eh jeant feer jesh,” as eisht ren ee stroogey yn mwannal echey as jannoo rea e edjaghyn, gra: “She fer-fyrryn eh. Shen-y-fa, cha vel eh monney madyr. Ta mish coontey dy jean eh gaase seose lajer son dy goaill kiarail jeh hene.”	“That is impossible, your grace,” said the mother. “He is not pretty, but he is a very good child, and swims just as well as the others, and even better. I think he will grow up pretty yet. He has been too much time in the egg, and that is why he isn’t formed very well;” and then she stroked his neck and smoothed the feathers, saying: “It is a drake. Therefore he is not of so much consequence. I reckon he will grow up strong for taking care of himself.”
“Ta ny thunnagyn elley jesh dy liooar,” dooyrt yn çhenn thunnag. “Nish jean shiu shiu hene ec y thie. as my nee shiu geddyn kione astan cur lesh hym’s eh.”	“The other ducklings are nice enough,” said the old duck. “Now make yourself at home, and if you find an eel’s head you can bring it to me.”
Myr shen ren ad jannoo ad hene ec y thie as va’d feer souyr; agh yn eean boght ren snaue ass yn ooh yn fer s’jerree jeh ooilley as va jeeaghyn cha graney, v’eh er ny vingey as er ny phuttey as lane faghid er ny yannoo jeh, cha nee liorish ny thunnagyn ny lomarkan, agh liorish kiarkyn as ooilley.	And so they made themselves at home and they were very comfortable; but the poor duckling who had crept out of his shell last of all and looked so ugly; he was nipped and pushed and made a lot of fun of, not only by the ducks but by hens and all.
“T’eh ro vooar,” v’ad ooilley gra; as yn kellagh turkey, quoi va er ve ruggit ayns yn seihll lesh spyrryn er, as coontey eh-hene ardreiltagh, ren sheiddey eh-hene magh myr lhong fo slane shiaull as ren getlagh er yn thunnag voght, as jannoo eh-hene jairg lesh sproght, myr shen cha row fys ec yn red beg boght cre’n raad dy gholl, as v’eh feer veevaynrey.	“He is too big,” they were all saying; and the turkey cock, who had been born into the world with spurs and fancied himself really a ruler, puffed himself out like a ship in full sail and flew at the poor duck, he made himself red with passion, so that the poor little thing did not know where to go, and was quite miserable.
Myr shen v’eh goll er voish laa gys laa, gys ren eh gaase ny smessey as ny smessey, gys va’n eean thunnag voght eiyrit mygeayrt ec dy chooilley unnane; as va eer e vraaraghyn as e huyraghyn neu-ghoogysagh da as gra rish. “y Chretoor graney, bare lhiam jinnagh yn kayt goaill oo.” As va e voir yeearee nagh row eh rieau er ve ruggit. Ren ny thunnagyn mingey eh, as va ny heïn chiark yeealley eh, as yn inneen va cur beaghey daue sprettal er lesh e cassyn. Gys, ec y jerrey, ren eh roie ersooyl, gagglagh ny ushagyn beggey va er yn chleigh tra ren eh getlagh harrish.	So it went on from day to day; until it got worse and worse, until the poor duckling was driven about by every one; and even his brothers and sisters were unkind to him and said to him, “Ah, you ugly creature, I wish the cat would get you” and his mother wished he had never been born. The ducks pecked him, the hen chicks were beating him, and the girl who fed them was pushing him with her feet. So at last he ran away, frightening the little birds that were on the hedge when he flew over.
“T’ad ayns aggle roym son dy vel mee cha graney,” dooyrt eh. Myr shen ren e jeih e hooilyn as getlagh ny sodjey jeh, gys haink e gys boayl va feer reeastaneagh, shuinyn as ushtey, raad va ymmodee thunnagyn feïe cummal. Ren eh furriaght ayns shen fud ny hoie, gennaghtyn feer skee as trimshagh.	“They are afraid of me because I am so ugly,” he said. So he shut his eyes as flew farther off, until he came to a spot that was very desolate, rushes and water, where there were many wild ducks dwelling. There he remained the whole night, feeling very tired and sorrowful.
Ayns yn voghrey, tra ren ny thunnagyn feïe troggal ayns yn aer, ghow ad baght jeh nyn gomraag noa. “Cre’n cheint dy hunnag shuish?” dooyrt ad ooilley, çheet mygeayrt-y-mysh.	In the morning, when the wild ducks rose in the air, they stared at their new comrade. “What sort of a duck are you?” they all said, coming round him.
Ren e croamey y chione aghtal dy liooar, agh cha ren eh cur ansoor erbee daue. “Ta shiu erskyn thowse graney,” dooyrt ny thunnagyn feïe, “agh cha vel shen madyr mannagh jean shiu poosey veg jeh’n lughtthie ainyn.”	He bowed his head fine enough, but he did not give them any answer “You are exceedingly ugly,” said the wild ducks; “but that does not matter if you do not marry any of our family.”
Yn red boght. Cha row eh smooinagh er poosey; ooilley ny v’eh laccal va keid dy lhie fud ny shuinyn as dy iu paart jeh’n ushtey er yn reeastane. Lurg da ve daa laa er yn reeastane, haink daa ghuiy huggey, ny eïn guiy feïe, son cha row ad feer foddey ass ny oohyn, agh v’ad feer daaney. “Eaisht charrey,” dooyrt fer jeu rish yn eean thunnag “ta shuish cha graney gys s’laik lhiam shiu feer vie. Jean shiu goll mârin, as goll harrish yn aarkey? Cha vel eh feer foddey voish shoh boayl ta reeastane elley, as ayns shen ta ymmodee gioee feïe feer aalin, nagh vel poost foast. She caa diu dy gheddyn ben. Foddee shiu ve luckee foast, graney myr ta shiu.”	The poor thing! He wasn’t thinking of marriage; all he wanted was permission to lie among the rushes and drink some of the water on the moor. After he had been on the moor two days, there came two wild geese, or rather goslings, for they weren’t long out of their eggs, but they were very impertinent. “Listen, friend,” said one of them to the duckling; “you are so ugly that I like you very well. Will you go with us, and go over the ocean? Not far from here, where there is another moor, in there there are many very pretty wild geese, that aren’t married yet. It is a chance for you to get a wife. You may make be lucky yet, ugly as you are.”
“Pop, pop,” ren eh clashtyn ayns yn aer, as ren yn daa ghuiy feïe tuittym marroo fud ny shuinyn as va’n ushtey er ny yannoo jiarg lesh yn uill oc. Ny lurg shen cha row veg agh “Pop, pop,” ry-chlashtyn foddey as gerrid, as ren shartanse dy ghuiy feïe girree seose ass ny shuinyn.	“Bang, bang,” he heard in the air, and the two wild geese fell dead among the rushes, and the water was reddened with their blood. After that, there was nothing but “Bang, bang,” to be heard far and wide, and several wild geese rose up from the rushes.
As va’n sheean ry-chlashtyn ayns dy chooilley ayrn jeh’n reeastane, son va ny shelgeyryn er chombaasal yn reestane as va paart jeu ny hoie er banglanyn ny biljyn va erskyn ny shuinyn. As va jaagh gorrym yn phoodyr girree myr bodjalyn harrish dooid ny biljyn as va ymmydee moddee goll mygeayrt fud ny shuinyn. Kys ren ad gagglagh yn eean thunnag boght! Ren e çhyndaa ersooyl e chione dy ollaghey eh-hene as çheleeragh haink moddey er gerrey da lesh e veeal foshlit as e hengey croghey magh ass y veeal, as ny sooilyn londeyragh myr aile. Ren eh cur e stroin er gerrey da’n eean thunnag, jeeaghyn e eeaklyn birragh, as eisht hie eh roish ayns yn ushtey, fegooish jannoo assee da.	The sound continued from every part of the moor, for the sportsmen had surrounded the moor, and some were even seated on branches of trees, overlooking the rushes. The blue smoke from the guns rose like clouds over the trees, and many dogs were going around among the rushes. How they terrified the poor duckling! He turned away his head to hide himself, and at the same moment a dog came near him with his jaws open and his tongue hanging from his mouth, and his eyes glaring like fire. He thrust his nose close to the duckling, showing his sharp teeth, and then he went into the water, without doing him harm.
Ren yn thunnag osnaghey, gra; “Cre cha booisal as ta mish dy vel mee cha graney; cha jean moddey hene greimmey mee.”	The duck sighed, saying; “how thankful I am for being so ugly; even a dog will not bite me.”
As myr shin ren eh lhie feagh, choud as va shottyn ny shelgeeryn jannoo sheean fud ny shuinyn, chouds va gunn lurg gunn er ny liggey harrish. V’eh anmagh er yn laa roish ren ooilley goaill shee, agh eer ec yn traa shen va’n red boght ayns aggle dy gleashagh. Ren eh farkiaght dy meen son tra liauyr, as eisht ren eh siyr dy gheddyn ersooyl voish yn reestane. Ren eh roie harrish ny magheryn as ny lheeantyn gys ren sterrym mooar girree as v’eh dolilee da dy streeu noi’nn gheay.	And so he lay still, while the hunters’ shots sounded through the rushes, whilst gun after gun was fired over him. It was late in the day before all became peaceful, but even then the poor thing was afraid to move. He waited calmly for a long time, and then he hastened to get away from the moor. He ran over the fields and meadows till a great storm arose, and he could hardly struggle against the wind.
Er gerrey da’n oie haink eh gys thie beg boght va jeeaghyn aarloo dy huittym, as ynrican shassoo er yn oyr nagh voddagh eh jannoo seose e aigney quoi yn çheu dy huittym hoshiaght. Cha voddagh yn thunnag veg goll ny sodjey. Hoie eh sheese liorish yn thie, as eisht chur eh tastey nagh row yn dorrys ooilley cooidjagh jeight, er yn oyr dy row fer jeh ny jeushanyn brisht, as va fosley coon ec thoin yn dorrys, agh ve mooar dy liooar da dy gheddyn trooid, as hie e trooid yn fosley feer feagh, myr shen ren e gheddyn fastee son yn oie shen. Va shen ven as kayt fyrryn as kiark cummal ayns yn thie. Yn kayt fyrryn va’n venainshter gyllagh eh “My vac beg,” v’ee coontey mwarrane[2] (???) jeh; v’eh son soiagh seose e ghreeym as whirral as ceau smaylyn voish e fynney my v’eh stroogit yn raad aggairagh. Va’n chiark lesh lurgaghyn feer feer gayre, v’ee gyllagh ee “Çhuckee ny lurgaghyn giarey.” V’ee breh oohyn mie, as va’n venainshter cha graihagh urree as dy beagh ee er ve yn lhiannoo ec hene.	Towards evening he reached a poor little cottage that seemed ready to fall, and only seemed to remain standing because it could not decide on which side to fall first. The duckling could go no farther. He sat down by the cottage, and then he noticed that the door was not quite closed, in consequence of one of the hinges being broken, and there was a narrow opening at the bottom of the door, but is was large enough for him to get through, and he went through the opening very quietly, and so got a shelter for that night. There was an old woman, a tom-cat, and a hen living in the house. The tom-cat, who his mistress called “My little son,” she thought of him as a pet (???); he could raise his back, and purr, and throw out sparks from his fur if it were stroked the wrong way. The hen had very, very short legs, she called her “Chickie Short-legs.” She laid good eggs, and her mistress loved her as if she had been her own child.
Ayns y voghery va’n fer joarree er ny gheddyn magh. As ren yn kayt goaill toshiaght dy whirral as yn chiark dy chluckal.	In the morning the strange visitor was discovered; the cat began to purr and the hen to cluck.
“Cre hon ta ooilley yn sheean shoh?” dooyrt y çhenn ven jeeaghyn mygeayrt-y-mysh yn çhamyr. Agh cha row yn shilley eck feer vie; shen-y-fa tra honnick ee yn thunnag roauyr v’ayn ren ee smooinaght dy row ee er shaghyrn. “Ta mee jerkal nagh re drake ee, son eisht nee’m geddyn paart dy hoohyn thunnag. Shegin dou farkiaght as fakin.” Myr shen, va’n eean Thunnag er ny lowal dy furriaght ayns yn thie son three shiaghteeyn; agh cha row veg dy hoohyn.	What is this all this noise for?” said the old woman, looking around about the room. But her sight was not very good; therefore when she saw the fat duckling she thought it had gone astray. “I hope it is not a drake, for then I shall have some ducks’ eggs. I must wait and see.”So the duckling was allowed to stay in the house for three weeks; but there weren’t any eggs.
Nish va’n kayt Mainshter yn thie, as va’n chiark yn venainshter; as v’ad dy mennick gra, “Shinnyn as yn seihll,” son v’ad credjal ad hene dy ve leih jeh’n seihll, as yn leih share neesht. Ren yn thunnag smooinaght dy voddagh feallagh elley ve jeh caghlaa credjue er yn chooish, agh cha jinnagh yn chiark geaishtagh rish lheid ny dooytyn.	Now the cat was the master of the house, and the hen was the mistress; and they often said, “We and the world,” for they believed themselves to be half the world, and the better half, too. The duckling thought that others might hold a different opinion on the subject, but the hen would not listen to such doubts.
“Vel shiu son breh oohyn?” ren ee briaght	“Can you lay eggs?” she asked.
“Cha vod.”	“No.”
“Eisht bee shiu mie dy liooar dy ve nyn dost.”	“Then will you be good enough to be quiet.”
“Vod shiu troggal seose nyn dreeym, as whirral, ny ceau smaylyn magh?” Dooyrt yn kayt.	“Can you raise your back, or purr, or throw out sparks?” said the cat.
“Cha vod.”	“No.”
“Eisht cha vel cairys erbee eu dy loayrt nyn aigney traa ta sleih creeney loayrt.” Myr shen ren yn thunnag soie ayns corneil, gennaghtyn feer cheaut sheesh; gys haink soilshean greiney stiagh as aer follan trooid yn fosley v’ayns yn dorrys, as eisht ghow eh lheid yn foddeeaght mooar dy ghoaill snaue ayns yn ushtey gys nagh voddagh eh fegooish ginsh eh da’n chiark.	“Then you have no right to express an opinion when sensible people are speaking.” So the duckling sat in a corner, feeling very low-spirited; but when the sunshine and the fresh air came into the room through the opening that was in the door, and then he began to feel such a great longing to go for a swim that he could not help telling of it to the hen.
“Cre’n smooinaghtyn ommijagh!” dooyrt yn chiark. “Cha vel veg arragh eu dy yannoo; shen-y-fa ta shiu smooinaght er reddyn cha moal,” dooyrt yn chiark, “Dy voddagh shiu whirral, ny breh oohyn, yinnagh ny smooinaghtynyn shen gholl ersooyl.”	“What an absurd idea!” said the hen. “You have nothing else to do; therefore you are thinking of such foolish fancies,” said the hen, “If you could purr or lay eggs, those thoughts would pass away.”
“Agh t’eh cha taitnyssagh dy snaue mygeayrt ayns yn ushtey,” doyrt yn thunnag, “as feer eunyssagh dy ennaghtyn eh coodagh nyn gione tra ta shiu goll sheesh gys y ghrunt.	“But it is so delightful to swim about in the water,” said the duck, “and so refreshing to feel it close over your head while you dive down to the bottom.”
“Taitnyssagh, dy jarroo!” dooyrt y chiark “shegin diu ve ass nyn dushtey! Brie shiu jeh’n chayt— t’eh yn cretoor s’creeney ta toiggal ayms jeh; brie shiu jeh cre’n aght yinnagh eh laccal dy snaue mygeayrt ayns yn ushtey, as gholl fo, son cha jeanym loayrt jeh my chreenaght hene. Brie shiu jeh’n çhenn ven, son cha vel unnane ayns yn seihll ny s’creeney na ish. Vel shiu smooinaghtyn dy beagh eh taitnys jee dy snaue as yn ushtey coodagh e kione?	“Delightful, indeed!” said the hen, “You must be crazy! Ask the cat—he is the cleverest animal I know; ask him how he would like to swim about on the water, or to dive under it, for I will not speak of my own opinion. Ask the old woman; there is no one in the world more clever than she is. Do you think she would relish swimming and letting the water close over her head?”
“Cha vel shiu toiggal mee,” dooyrt yn thunnag.	“You don’t understand me,” said the duckling.
“Cha vel shin toiggal shiu? Quoi foddagh toiggal shiu, ta mee yindys? Vel shiu coontey shiu hene ny s’creeney na yn kayt as yn çhenn ven?— Cha jeanym gra veg mychione aym pene. Ny smooinee er lheid yn voghtnid, lhiannoo, as chur shiu booise son yn luck mie eu da’n çhenn ven; dy vel shiu er ve goit stiagh ayns shoh. Nagh vel shiu ayns shamyr souyr, as ayns sheshaght veih fod shiu gynsagh red ennagh? Agh ta shiu taggloo dy mennick, as cha vel yn çheshaght eu feer taitnyssagh. Jean shiu mish y chredjal, ta mee loayrt ynrican son y vie eu. Foddym ginsh diu reddyn nagh vel taitnyssagh agh ta shen ynrican prowal jeh my aigney mie. Ta mee coyrlaghey shiu, er-y-fa shen, dy vreh oohyn, as dy ynsagh dy whirral cha thappee as fod shiu.”	“We don’t understand you? Who could understand you, I wonder? Do you consider yourself more clever than the cat or the old woman?— I will say nothing of myself. Don’t imagine such nonsense, child, and give thanks for your good fortune to the old woman; that you have been received here. Are you not in a comfortable room, and in society from which you may learn something? But you are a chat often, and your company is not very agreeable. Believe me, I speak only for your good. I may tell you unpleasant things, but that is only a proof of my goodwill. I advise you, therefore, to lay eggs and learn to purr as quickly as you can.”
“Ta mee coontey dy jem magh ayns yn seihll reesht,” dooyrt yn thunnag.	“I reckon I’ll go out into the world again,” said the duckling.
“Nee, gow royd,” dooyrt yn chiark. Myr shen (ren) yn eean thunnag faagail yn thie, as ayns traa gerrid v’eh ayns yn ushtey raad v’eh son snaue as goll gys y ghrunt, agh va dy chooilley cretoor elley freayl ec reamys jeh, er yn oyr dy row eh jeeaghyn cha graney.	“Yes, off you go,” said the hen. So the duckling left the cottage and soon found water on which it could swim and dive, but he was avoided by all other animals because of his ugly appearance.
Haink yn ouyr, as ren ny dulliagyn ayns yn cheyll çhyndaa bwee goll-rish airh, eisht myr va’n geurey tayrn er-gerrey, ren yn gheay goaill ad as cassey ad mygeayrt ayns yn aer feeayr. As va ny bodjalyn trome lesh sniaghtey garroo, as va ny keshagyn sniaghtee croghey injil ayns yn aer, as va’n feeagh ny hassoo ayns yn rhennagh, geam, “Croak, croak.” V’eh cur fer[3] er-creau lesh feayraght dy yeeaghyn er. Va ooilley shoh feer neu-haitnyssagh da’n eean thunnag boght.	Autumn came, and the leaves in the forest turned to yellow, like gold; then, as winter approached, the wind took them and whirled them around in the cold air. And the clouds were heavy with hail, and the snowflakes were hanging low in the sky, and the raven stood among the bracken, crying, “Croak, croak.” It was making one shiver with cold to look at him. All this was very sad for the poor little duckling.
Un fastyr, myr va’n ghrian goll sheese, haink shartanse dy hushagyn feer aalin ass ny thammagyn. Cha ren yn thunnag rieau fakin nyn lheid ayns ooilley e vea. Ollee va’d, as va’d lhoobey nyn mwannalyn keyl, as va ny fedjagyn oc feer aalin as cha gial as sniaghtey. V’ad geamagh lesh coraa nagh ren e rieau clashtyn roie myr v’ad skeayley nyn skianyn gloyroil as getlagh ersooyl voish yn feayraght gys çheeraghyn çheh harrish yn cheayn. As myr v’ad goll seose ny syrjey as ny syrjey ayns yn aer ren yn thunnag veg graney gennaghtyn yeearee dy gholl mâroo myr v’eh jeeaghyn orroo. Ren eh cassey eh-hene mygeayrt goll-rish queeyl, sheeyney magh e wannal geiyrt orroo, as geam lesh coraa feer joarree gys ren e gagglaghey eh-hene. Voddagh eh dy bragh jarrood ny ushagyn aalin, maynrey shen! As ec y jerrey, tra v’ad ersooyl ass e hilley, ren e goll fo’n ushtey as çheet seose reesht, faggys dy ve ass e cheeayl lesh yn ennaghtyn va ayns e chree. Cha row fys echey cre’d va’n ennym oc ny cre’n raad va’d ersooyl, agh cha ren e rieau gennaght lheid yn chleayn gys ushagyn erbee elley ayns yn seihll.	One evening, just as the sun was setting, several beautiful birds came out of the bushes. The duckling had never seen any like them in all his life. They were swans; and they curved their graceful necks, and their beautiful plumage was as white as snow. They called with voice that he had never heard before as they spread their glorious wings and flew away from the cold to hot countries across the sea. And as they mounted higher and higher in the air, the ugly little duckling felt a desire to go with them as he watched them.. He whirled himself in the water like a wheel, stretched out his neck towards them, and uttered a cry so strange that it frightened himself. Could he ever forget those beautiful, happy birds! And when at last they were out of his sight, he dived under the water and rose again almost beside himself with excitement. He knew not the names of these birds nor where they had gone, but he never such an attraction towards any other bird in the world.
Cha row eh troo mysh ny cretooryn aalin; ny yeearree dy ve cha aalin roo. Cretoor boght graney, cre cha arryltagh as v’eh er chummal marish ny thunnagyn dy beagh ad er chur fea da.	He was not envious of these beautiful creatures; nor wish to be as pretty as them. Poor ugly creature, how gladly he had lived with the ducks, if only they had given a break
Ren yn geurey gaase ny s’feayr as ny s’feayr, as ve eiginyt dy snaue mygeayrt ayns yn ushtey dy reayl eh voish rio, agh dy chooilley oie va’n phoyl gaase ny sloo raad v’eh snaue. Fy-yerrey, ren eh rio cha croie dy row yn ushtey crankal myr v’eh snaue ayn, as va’n eean thunnag eiginit dy obbragh e chassyn dy reayl eh voish rio. Ren eh gaase skee ec y jerrey as lhie feagh as v’eh cummit shicker ayns yn rio.	The winter grew colder and colder; and he was obliged to swim about on the water to keep it from freezing, but every night the pool became smaller and smaller where he swam. At length it froze so hard that the ice in the water crackled as he swam in it, and the duckling had to paddle his legs to keep it from freezing. He became exhausted at last and lay still, and he was frozen fast in the ice.
Moghey laa ny vairagh va dooinney boght gholl shaghey as fakin c’red va er daghyrt da’n eean thunnag. Ren eh brishey yn rio ayns peeshyn lesh e vraagyn fuygh as cur lesh yn thunnag thie gys e ven heshey.	Early in the morning a peasant was passing by and saw what had happened to the duckling. He broke the ice in pieces with his wooden shoes and carried the duckling home to his wife.
Ren yn çhiass aavoighey yn cretoor beg boght, agh tra honnick ny paitçhyn ee v’ad laccal cloie ree, agh va’n thunnag ayns aggle dy jinnagh ad assee da, myr shen lheim eh seose ayns aggle roo, as ren eh getlagh ayns claare bainey, as spreih yn bainney harrish yn çhamyr. Eisht ren yn ven bwooalley e bassyn as ren shen gagglagh eh ny smoo. Ren e getlagh ayns saagh eeym, as ass shen reesht ayns saagh meinney, as ass shen reesht. Cre’n cummey v’eh ayn eisht. Ren yn ven geam as cur da lesh yn chlou; va ny paitçhyn garraghtee as roie mygeayrt geamagh as rollal harrish-y-cheilley ayns streeu dy hayrtyn eh, agh hooar e ersooyl va’n dorrys feayn-foshlyt, as ren yn cretoor boght geddyn magh fud ny thammagyn as lhie sheesh snieut er yn sniaghtey.	The warmth revived the poor little creature; but when the children wanted to play with him, but the duckling thought they would do him some harm, so he started up in terror of them, fluttered into a milk pan, and splashed the milk about the room. Then the woman clapped her hands, which frightened him still more. He flew into a butter cask, and back out and into a meal tub and out again. What a condition he was in then! The woman screamed and struck at him with the tongs; the children were laughing and running around shouting and rolling over each other in their efforts to catch him, but he got away. The door was wide open; and the poor creature got out among the bushes and lay down curled up on the snow.
Veagh eh feer ghroamagh dy jinnin ginsh mysh ooilley yn seaghyn trimshey as accrys as paays ren yn eean beg thunnag surranse trooid yn yeurey croie shen; agh tra va’n geurey ersooyl ren eh geddyn eh hene un voghrey ny lhie fud ny shuinyn, as ren eh gennaghtyn çhiass yn ghrian va soilshean as clashtyn ny hushagyn kiauleeaght, as dy row ooilley mygeayrt yn niarragh aalin.	It would be very sad were I to relate all the misery and privations which the poor little duckling endured during that hard winter; but when the winter had passed he found himself lying one morning in a moor, amongst the rushes, and felt the warm sun shining and heard the lark singing and that all around was beautiful spring.
Eisht ren eh gennaghtyn dy row ny skianyn echey er naase lajer, as ren eh yeealley ad noi e lhiattaghyn. Ren eh girree ard ayns yn aer. Ren ad cur lesh eh er e hoshiaght gys ren eh geddyn eh-hene ayns garey feer vooar raad va ny biljyn ooyl ayns slane blaa, as ny biljyn tramman sheeney nyn banglaneyn geayney sheese ayns yn trooan, va roie mysh boayl rea geayney. Va dy chooilley nhee jeaghyn aalin as stoamey ayns toshiaght yn niarragh. Voish thammag er-gerrey da haink three ollee[4] vaney feer aalin, clusaghey nyn fedjagyn as snaue dy eddrym harrish yn ushtey shliawn. Ren yn eean thunnag cooinaghtyn er ny hushagyn aalin ren e fakin girree ass yn shuinagh as v’eh ny mee-vaynrey na ve rieau.	Then the young bird felt that his wings had grown strong, and he flapped them against his sides. He rose high into the air. They bore him onwards until he found himself in a very large garden where apple trees were in full blossom, and the elder trees stretched their long green branches down to the stream, which wound round a smooth lawn. Everything looked beautiful and grand in the early spring. From a thicket close by came three beautiful white swans, rustling their feathers and swimming lightly over the smooth water. The duckling remembered the lovely birds he saw rising from the rushes and felt more unhappy than ever.
“Neem getlagh gys ny ushagyn reeoil,” dooyrt eh, “as nee ad mee y varroo er yn oyr dy vel mee cha graney as goaill orrym dy heet er-gerrey daue Agh cha vel eh madyr; te ny share dy ve marroo lioroosyn na dy ve mingit ec ny thunnagyn as er ny yeealley liorish ny kiarkyn, as er ny phuttey mygeayrt liorish yn inneen va cur beaghey daue, ny dy gholl mow lesh accrys ayns yn yeurey.	“I will fly to these royal birds,” he exclaimed, “and they will kill me because I am so ugly and dare to approach them. But it does not matter; it is better to be killed by them than to be pecked by the ducks, and beaten by the hens, and pushed about by the maiden who was feeding them, or to starve with hunger in the winter.”
Eisht ren eh getlagh gys yn ushtey as snaue lesh ny hollee aalin. Cha leah as ren ad fakin yn joarree ren ad siyr dy veeitteil eh lesh nyn skianyn sheeynt dy lhean.	Then he flew to the water and swam towards the beautiful swans. The moment they espied the stranger they rushed to meet him with outstretched wings.
“Marr shiu mee,” dooyrt yn ushag voght, as ren eh croymmey e chione sheese gys eaghtyr yn ushtey, farkiagh son y vaase.	“Kill me,” said the poor bird and he bent his head down to the surface of the water and awaited death.
Agh cre ren eh cur my-ner ayns yn ushtey sollys agh yn jalloo echey hene— gyn ny sodjey ushag dorraghey-glass, graaney as neu-haitnyssagh dy yeeaghyn er, agh ollay feer aalin as stoamey.	But what did he see in the clear stream, but own image— no longer a dark-grey bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a splendid and beautiful swan.
Dy ve ruggit ayns uhlllin eirinagh ayns edd thunnag; cha vel eh nearey erbee dy ve guirt ayns ooh ollay. Ren eh nish gennaghtyn maynrey lurg surranse wheesh dy trimshey as seaghyn, er yn oyr dy row eh ny share son goaill ayrn ayns ooilley ny taitnyssyn as eunyssyn mygeayrt-y-mysh; son ren ny hollee mooarey snaue mygeayrt-y-mysh yn fer noa, as stroogey eh lesh nyn mwannalyn liauyr, myr she-dty-vea.	To be born in a farmyard in a duck’s nest; it is of no shame at all to be hatched from a swan’s egg. He now felt glad at having suffered so much sorrow and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy so much better all the pleasure and happiness around him; for the great swans swam round the newcomer and stroked him with their long necks, as a welcome.
Gys yn gharey ayns tra gherryd haink paart dy phaitchyn aegey, as ren ad ceau arran millish ayns yn ushtey.	To the garden presently came some young children, and they threw cake into the water.
“Jeeagh,” dooyrt yn fer saa jeu. Shen ollay noa,” as va’d ooilley feer taitnyssagh ayn, as ren ad roie gys nyn ayr as nyn moir, daunsin as bwoalley nyn massyn, geamagh ayns boggey. “Ta ollay elley er jeet. Ta fer noa er roshtyn.”	“See,” cried the youngest, “there is a new one;” and they were all delighted with him, and ran to their father and mother, dancing and clapping their hands, shouting joyously, “Another swan has come; a new one has arrived.”
Eisht ren ad ceau tooilliu arrane millish ayns yn ushtey as gra, “Ta’n fer noa yn fer s’aalin jeu ooilley, t’eh cha aeg as stoamey.” As ren ny shenn ollee croymmey nyn ghing kiongoyrt rish.	Then they threw more cake into the water and said, “The new one is the most beautiful one of all, he is so young and pretty.” And the old swans bowed their heads before him.
Eisht v’eh goaill nearey, as ren e folliaght e chione fo e skian, son cha row fys echey c’red dy yannoo, v’eh cha maynrey— agh ny-yeih, cha row eh moyrnagh. V’eh beg soit jeh son e ghranid, as nish ren eh clashtyn ad gra dy row eh yn fer s’aalin jeh ooilley ny hushagyn. Eer yn billey tramman ren lhoobey sheese e vanglaneyn ayns yn ushtey kiongoyrt rish, as va’n ghrian soilshean çheh as sollys. Eisht ren eh clusagh e edjagyn as lhoobey e wannal cheyl, as geamagh ayns boggey veih grunt e chree, “Cha ren mee rieau dreamal jeh lheid yn vaynrys shoh choud as va mee my eean thunnag graney	Then he felt quite ashamed and hid his head under his wing, for he did not know what to do, he was so happy—yet he was not proud. He had been despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder tree bent down its boughs into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and bright. Then he rustled his feathers and curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully from the depths of his heart, “I never dreamed of such happiness as this while I was a despised ugly duckling.
Er ny hyndaa gys Gaelg Liorish E. F., Crenaish.	Translated into Manx by E. F., Cregneash.
As scrieut yn nah laa as feed jeh yn nah vee jeh’n yeurey ayns yn vlein hoght cheead yeig kaire feed as nuy jeig ayns Crenaish ayns kione sheer ass Ellan Vannin ayns Skylley Chreest.	And written on the twenty-second of the second month of the winter (December), in the year eighteen hundred and ninety-nine, in Cregneash in the south-west end of the Isle of Man, in Rushen.