‘Puzzle in Manx’

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Manx	English
AYNS Mee Ny Mannan (Mee Vayrnt) bee Kione Shiaghtin Gaelgagh goll y chummal[1] ec Eairy Cuishlin as bee shey ny shiaght dy Yernee cheet noal marish Sheorus Mac Rurie dy ghoaill ayrn ayn.	In March there will be a Manx weekend being held at Eairy Cushlin and there will be six or seven Irish people coming over with George Broderick to take part in it.
[1] goll y chummal] [goll er cummal]
Er lhiam dy vel ny Yernee shoh ooilley nyn loayreyderyn dooghyssagh.	I think that these Irish people are all native speakers.
Cheayll mee dy vel Brian Mac Stoyll son cheet myrgeddin.	I heard that Brian Stowell can come too.
Mannagh vel caa ain dy chummal maroo, shegin dooin ec y chooid sloo cur shilley orroo ayns shen.	If we don’t have a chance to stay with them, we must at least go to see them there.
Cha nel mee shickyr jeh’n dait foast agh inshym diu ny s’anmey.	I’m not sure of the date yet, but I will tell you later.
Ayns y cholloo yn shiaghtyn shoh ta shin cur errey er[2] skeeal Varkys as ta meeryn elley ayn foddee nagh vel shiu er n’akin roie.	In the column this week we are concluding Mark’s story and there are other pieces that maybe you haven’t seen before.
[2] cur jerrey er] ‘bringing to completeion, finishing’ text gives [cur errey er] ‘placing a burdon upon’.
By vie lhiam cur moylley da Robard Mac y Fee yn cloudeyr ta clou-screeu “Noon as Noal” gagh hiaghtin.[3]	I would like to give praise to Robert McFee, the printer who type-sets “Noon as Noal” every week.
[3] gagh shiaghtin] text gives [gagh hiaghtin]
Ta Robard gynsaghey Gaelg dy mie nish as cha nel eh jannoo monney marranyn edyr!	Robard is learning Manx well now and he isn’t making many errors at all!
Ta Robard ny ghooinney mooinjerey aym pene er y fa dy daink ny shenn ayraghyn echey voish Skeerey Andreays as va Karagher yn ennym orroo.	Robert is a relative of mine because his ancestors came from Andreas Parish and their name was Fargher.
Lurg y chaggey, ’sy vlein 1946, hie my charrey Illiam Radcliffe, voish Rumsaa, as mish dys Nherin as lurg jannoo briaght hooar shin y voayl raad v’ad freayll ny rhollanyn.	After the war, in the year 1946, my friend William Radcliffe, from Ramsey, and I went to Ireland and after making enquiry we found the place where they were keeping the cylinders.
V’ad ny lhie ayns kishtey fuygh eddrym fegooish farkyl ny coodagh erbee er lhimmey son joan chiu.	They were lying in a light wooden (balsa wood?) box without a lid or any cover except for thick dust.
Va kiare as feed jeu.	There were twenty-four of them.
Ass yn earroo shoh va jees dy bollagh brisht, jees elley va scrabit ass myghin as ga dy row shin abyl dy chlashtyn rish feed jeh ny rhollanyn er y greie va eeassit dooin ec y voayl chemmyrk, va ny sheeanyn feer faase ec keayrtyn.	Out of this number two were completey broken, two others were scratched mercilessly and although we were able to hear twenty of the cylinders on the machine that was lent to us at the place of refuge (safe place), the sounds were very weak at times.
Cheau shin slane laa geaishtagh rish ny rhollanyn as screeu rolley soiaghey magh cre va recortyssit er dagh rhollan.	We spent a whole day listening to the cylinders and writing a list setting out what was recorded on each cylinder.
Va shoh stoyr yindyssagh jeh Gaelg myr v’ee goll er loayrt ayns Cregneash ’sy vlein 1930 ny 1931 agh aless, cha nel pyagh erbee er chlashtyn ny rhollanyn er lhimmey son Illiam as meehene as strooys lhiam dy vel ooilley yn obbyr jeant ec Marstrander bentyn rish recortyssyn er ve ayns fardail, son ta mee er chlastyn voish y Vuseum nagh vod ad geddyn sheean erbee nish ass ny rhollanyn.	This was a wonderful treasure of Manx as it was being spoken in Cregneash in the year 1930 or 1931, but unfortunately, no one has heard the cylinders except for Illiam and myself and it seems to me that all the work done by Marstrander concerning recordings was in vain, because I have heard from the Museum that they cannot get any sound out the cylinders now.
Va Harry coontey eh dy ve jurnaa liauyr eddyr Doolish as Cregneash as roish va kied aym dy aagail e hie as goll roym va mee eginit dy ooraghey as niartaghey my-hene lesh lhongey.	Harry was considering it to be a long journey between Douglas and Cregneash and before I would be permitted to leave his house and go, I was made to refresh and strengthen myself with a meal.
Shen y fa va cappan dy hey, arran as eeym as ooh thunnag broiet currit kiongoyrt rhym.	Therefore, a cup of tea, bread and butter and a boiled duck egg was put before me.
Er-lhiam dy row oohyn thunnag gyn earroo ec Harry as va dwoaie ayms orroo.	I think Harry had too many duck eggs to count, and I hated them.
V’ad ro lajer er my hon as cha dod mee ee nane.	They were too strong for me and I couldn’t eat one.
Hie yn ayrn smoo jeu ayns my vussal, as eisht dys my phoggaid dy ve tilgit ersooyl er y raad thie.	Most of them went in my handkerchief, and then to my pocket to be thrown away on the way home.
Cha jinnagh Harry geaishtagh rish ny leshtalyn ayms smooinee eh dy hass mee ayns feme jeh lhongey as va shen jerrey yn arganys.	Harry wouldn’t listen to my excuses, he thought I would stand in need of a meal and that was the end of the argument.
Smooinee mee keayrt dy chur lesh tombagey[4] myr cowrey chooilleeney[5] son e chenjallys dou.	Once, I thought to bring tobacco, as a token of appreciation for his kindness to me.
[4] thombagey] this word does not appear in the original piece, but evidently it, or a something similar, has been ommitted in error. [5] cowrey chooilleeney] ‘a sign of compensation’ here taken to mean ‘a token of appreciation’ (although other translations might be preferred). [cowrey] is usually treated as a masculine noun, so [cowrey cooilleeney] would be expected.
Cha row eh goaill tayrn dy mennick agh heill mee dy beagh “Cabbyl Caggee” tombaghey cooie er e hon.	He wasn’t taking a draw often, but I supposed that ‘War Horse’ would be a suitable tobacco for him.
Va’n jishag aym kionnaghey yn stoo shoh as va fys ayms dy row eh stoo lajer as niartal.	My dad bought this stuff and I knew that it was strong and mighty stuff.
Choud’s ta cooinaghtyn ayms cha row Harry jannoo ymmyd jeh’n tombaagey shoh ga va soiaghey jeant echey jeh.	As far as I remember Harry wasn’t using this tobacco, although he accepted it.
Cha naik mee rieau eh giarrey yn wed son y piob.	I never saw him cut the wad for the pipe.
Bare lesh eh stoo gollrish shenn teid[6], cassit as thummit ayns therr v’eh freayll ayns duinid e phoggaid.	He preferred suff like an old rope, twisted and dipped in tar, that he was keeping in the depths of his pocket.
[6] teid] ‘a rope’, the most common spelling in Classical Manx is [tedd], with variants [tead] and [teidd] found in later Manx.
Cha row rieau monney jaagh cheet ass y piob as cha s’ayms mannagh ghow eh taitnys ass ny dyn, agh va’n tombaghey shen jioogh atchimagh er foaddanyn!	There was never much smoke coming out of the pipe and I don’t know if he enjoyed the pipe or not, but that tobacco was terribly ‘greedy for matches’.
Ta shen cur er-ash dou skeeal aitt.	That reminds me of a funny story.
Laa dy row dooyrt Harry rhym, “Vel fys ayds dy row yn chied er dy etlagh ayns Ellan Vannin dooinney ayns Cregneash?”	One day Harry saif to me, “Do you know that the first man to fly in the Isle of Man was a man in Cregneash?”
Va thanvaneys vooar orrym. “Dy jarroo, cha geayll mee shen — insh dou yn skeeal my sailliu.”	I was greatly astonished. “Really? I’ve never heard that — tell me the story please.”
“Illiam Collister va’n ennym echey. V’eh faagail yn ven echey as getlagh dys Nherin dy ve ny hushtallagh.”	“His name was William Collister. He was leaving his wife and flying to Ireland to be an evangelist.”
Er hoh scuirr eh, as ghow eh toshiaght dy chur aile ’sy phiob as va mish farkaght er dy meen.	With this he stopped, and he started to put fire in the pipe and I was waiting patiently for him.
Shoh jeant, hie eh er, “Va red jeant echey ass daa dollan er e gheayltin, hass eh er mullagh boalley y muclagh as dooyrt eh rish e ven, ‘Lesh cooney Yee neems oo faagail,’ as lheim eh seose ’syn aer.	This done, he went on, “He had made a thing out of two dollans (a hoop with a sheepskin spread over it / a tray / a drum) on his shoulders, he stood on the top of the pig-sty wall and he said to his wife, “With God’s help, I will leave you,” and he jumped up in the air.
Ec y traa shoh va’n piob bunnys mooghit as va Harry tayrn er lesh ooilley e niart as bwoailley foaddan lurg foaddan.	At the time the pipe was almost out and Harry was drawing on it with all his might and striking match after match.
Reesht va mee farkaght dy chlashtyn jerrey yn skeeal as hooar yn miandid ayms y varriaght as vrie mee, “Cre haink er eisht?”	Again, I was waiting to hear the end of the story and my eagerness got the better of me and I asked, “What happened to him then?”
Fy yerrey, tra va’n piob lostey dy mie dooyrt Harry, “Ren y ven echey reuyrey eh magh ass y thorran lesh grape.”	Finally, when the pipe was burning well, Harry said, “His wife dug him out of the dungheap with a dung-fork.”
Shimmey keayrt ta mee er ghearey er y skeeal shen as yn aght ve inshit dou.	Many’s the time I have laught at that story and way he told it to me.
Ga nagh row eh bannit lesh cooid heihllt[7] cre erbee v’echey v’eh booiagh dy rheynn rish pyagh erbee.[8]	Although he wasn’t blessed with worldly goods, whatever he had he was pleased to share with anyone.
[7] cooid heihllt] ‘worldy goods’. The usual spelling is [cooid heiihlt]. [cooid seihlt] is also well attested. [8] rheynn rish pyagh erbee] ‘to divide to anyone’ — evidently intended to translate the English phrase ‘to share with’, for which we would expect something like [dy rheynn mastey sleih] ‘to divide (share) among people’ or [cur ayrn da peiagh erbee] — ‘give a share to anyone’.
V’eh dy mennick fockley magh goan Thomas y Thummider:—	He was often reciting the words of Tom the Dipper[9]:—
[9] Tom the Dipper] Thomas Shimmin. (c. 1808 – c. 1876)
Cha nel guiy feie mish	I’m no wild goose,
Ny Yernagh braddagh breagagh	Or thievish lying Irishman,
Agh geddyn lhongaghyn car y laa	But get meals all the day,
Lesh geeck as dellal cairagh.	By paying and fair dealing.
Myr shen cha dug eh saynt da cooid dooinney erbee.	So he didn’t envy any man’s goods.
Eaddagh jesh, litcherys, goaill eaysh ec y chiollagh — ren Harry soiaghey scansh er veg jeh ny reddyn shoh.	Nice clothing, idleness, resting at the fireplace —Harry set didn’t conisder any of these things important.
Bare lesh eh dy ve mooie raad va kiartaghyn dy ve jeant.	He would prefer to be outside where there were chores to be done.
S’doillee eh dy chur ry lhiattee cliaghtaghyn jeh bea harroogh.	It’s difficult to put aside the habits of a busy life.
Ec yn oie harragh Harry gys kione e hie as cur buirroogh mooar magh ass, “Oie vie, bhoy,” as veagh fys ec y clane[10] balley beg, as ec Purt Chiarn as Purt Noo Moirrey neesht (cordail rish y gheay) dy row mee paartail son Doolish as my hie hene.	At night Harry would come to the end of his house and give out a great roar, “Good night, boy,” so the entire village would know, and Port Erin and Port St. Mary too (according to the wind) that I was departing for Douglas and my own house.
[10] ec y clane balley beg] ‘at the entirety of the village’ — [ec y slane balley beg] ‘at the whole village’ would be expected here.
Hooar Harry baase ayns Mee Avril 1935[11] as v’eh oanluckit sy chenn rhullick ec Skylley Chreest Rushen.	Harry died in April 1935 and he was buried in the old graveyard at Kirk Christ Rushen.
[11] For an obitury for Harry Kelly see; Isle of Man Examiner, Friday, April 05, 1935; Page: 7.
Va mee nane jeu ren ymmyrkey e chorp dys yn oaie ayns shen.	I was one of those who carried his body to the grave there.
MARK BRAIDE.	MARK BRAIDE.
Jerrey Geuree, 1977.	January, 1977.
VOISH ILLIAM Y RADLAGH	FROM BILL RADCLIFFE
Un oie va mee my hassoo ec dorrys thie Vnr. Craayl, Balley Garret, Skeerey Vreeshey, oie dorraghey v’ayn, ayns traa y chaggee.	One night I was standing at the doorway of the house of Mrs Kneale, Balley Garret, Bride Parish, it was a dark night, in the wartime.
Honnick shin soilshaghyn etlan va goll shaghey ’syn aer.	We saw airplane lights that were going past in the sky.
Yeeagh Bnr. Craayl orroo lesh yindys, as dooyrt ee rhym, “Cre'n aght t’ad freayll heose Illiam?”	Mrs Kneal looked at them with amazement, and she said to me, “How do they keep stay up William?”
FOW TURNEYR!	GET A LAWYER!
Keayrt dy row va daa vac[12] ayn as va ayr berchagh oc as ram thalloo as argid echey agh cha row foast chymney jeant echey.	Once upon a time there were two sons and they had a wealthy father and he had a lot of land and money but he hadn’t yet made a will.
[12] Daa vac] text gives [daa mac].
Un laa va’n shenn ’er shooyl ayns Straid Skylley Chreest, Rhumsaa, marish yn daa vac echey tra haink teaym-chree er as v’eh ching agglagh as v’eh currit lesh ayns shapp ennagh son dy choural.	One day the old fella was walking in Parliament Street, Ramsey, with his two sons when he had a heart-attack and he was brought in a shop to recover.
Dooyrt y mac shinney da’n mac saa,	The elder son said to the younger son,
“Roie bwoie roie! Fow turneyr! Bee’n shenn ‘er ersooyl as cha bee red erbee jeant echey!”	“Run boy, run! Get a lawyer! The old fella will be gone and he won’t have anything made!”
DOBBERAN NY BENTREOGHE AEG	THE LAMENT OF THE YOUNG WIDOW
My vollaght er y Vaase!	My curse on Death!
Ver eh yn boght as yn berchagh gys beeal yn oaie[13] leshyn!	It brings the poorman and the richman to the mouth of the grave!
[13] oaie] text gives [oaye]
Cur clagh as cray orroosyn as nyn gliejeen.	Put a stone and clay on them and their jewels.
Cha nee shen ta mee mooaraghey da, agh my ghraih !	That is not what I begrudge it, but my love!
Ben-treoghe as moidjyn mish, faagit dy aeg.	I am a widow and a virgin, left young.
Geayll oo y skeeal kys vaih my ghraih veen?	Did you hear the news how my dear love drowned?
Dy beigns er ve mooie marishyn yn laa shen, verrin dy valley slane eh as bio!	If I had been out with him that day, I would bring him home whole (in good heath), and alive!
Moghrey Laa'l Pherick va’n straid lane dy ’leih.	The Morning of St Patrick’s Day the street was full of people.
Va mraane as paitchyn ayn, er nyn mannish, biolyn as claasagh v’ayn as ram reddyn ry-hoi kiaull.	There were women and children, at our wedding, there were violins and a harp and many things for music.
Agh my chragh! She e ’arrar va nyn mannish!	But my destruction! Our wedding was his wake!
Tra heilys yn sleih dy vel mee ny lhie, my chadley ayns my lhiabbee er oaye my lhiannan ta mee sheeynt veih’n astyr dys y vadran, keayney son echeysyn t’ayns shen ny lhie feayr fo’n ‘oaid, my ghraih veen ooasle gial, cha deyr dou as lhiannoo.	When the people suppose that I am lying, sleeping in my bed, on the grave of my lover I am lying, from the evening until the dawn, weaping for he who is in there, lying under the sod, my bright, noble, dear love, so dear to me, and a lover.
Ta ny creeaghyn crauee brisht ec e ayr as e voir, as ec y ven-chee echey hug taaley da ‘sy chleayn.	The faithful hearts of his father and his mother are broken, and that of his nursemaid who gave a flowing (of milk) to him in the cradle.
E ven-phoost nagh dooar rieau gys e lhiabbee, t’ee guee mollaghtyn er yn laa nagh daink eh dy valley!	His bride who never got to his bed,
	she curses the day that he didn’t come home!
Dobberan dty vaase t’er n’yannoo lheeah my chione, O Ree, Vac Voirrey, cre’n stayd daag oo mee ayn!	The lament of your death has made my head grey, O King, Son of Mary, what state you left me in!
Er carrick my lhiannan hug oo graih dty chooyl. O chione doo cast my ghraih cailt, my vannaght ort dy bra!	On the rock of my lover you left love behind you. O black, curly head of my lost love, my blessing upon you for ever!
“BREAGAGH”	“BREAGAGH”
Puzzle in Manx	Puzzle in Manx
“Daa huyr v’ayn lesh mac y pheesh,	“Two sisters there were, with a son each,
As va’n daa vac daa vraar,	And the two sons were two brothers,
As v’adsyn shuyraghyn daue neesht,	And they were sisters to them too,
As moiraghyn da nyn mraar”	And mothers to their brothers”
Answer in Genesis 19, v. 36, 37, 38	Answer in Genesis 19, v. 36, 37, 38