| Manx | English | |
|---|---|---|
| Noon as Noal'To and Fro' | ||
| Skeeal Yuan y Comish (goll er) | John Comish’s Story (Continuing) | |
| Goll Dys Ny Sleityn | Going to the Mountains | |
| “Ersooyl lhiat Chatreeney! Cha nel mee ro aeg er chor erbee! Gow mee mayrt!” dooyrt mish dy cleaynagh. | “Away with you Catreeney! I’m not too young at all! Take me with you!” I said suggestively. | |
| “Traa ennagh elley, foddee, Eoineen, tra vees oo ny shinney, agh cha nee yn traa shoh,” dooyrt ee, as honnick mee nagh row eh boirey urree mychione y chooish ny s’odjey, as myr shen ren mee geabbey er aght elley — | “Some other time, maybe, Johnny, when you are older, but not this time,” she said, and I saw she wasn’t concerned about the matter any further, and so I attempted another way — | |
| “Kiart dy liooar, eisht brieym jeh Emily. Hed ish marym, ta fys mie aym,” dooyrt mee, lhiggey orrym dy row corree orryms! | “Right enough, then I’ll ask Emily. She will go with me, I well know it,” I said, pretending that I was angry! | |
| Va Emily yn shuyr eck ny ben aeg feed vlein d’eash, lieckanyn ruissagh eck as lane dy vree. | Emily was her sister, a young woman, twenty years of age, with rosey cheeks and full of energy. | |
| “Cha jean oo y lhied er chor erbee,” dyllee ee dy gheyre orrym, as va aggle ayns yn coraa eck. | You won’t do such a thing at all,” she shouted sharply at me, and there was fear in her voice. | |
| “Cre t’eh nagh jeanym’s?” vrie mee urree dy daaney. | “What is is I won’t do?” I asked her boldly. | |
| “Brie jeh Emily oo hene!” dreggyr ish, lesh yn aggle nish ayns ny sooillyn eck. | “Ask Emily yourself!” she answered, with fear now in her eyes. | |
| “Dy jarroo, neeyms!” as mish, “Mannagh jedym mayrt’s,” dooyrt mish ayns coraa creoi. | “Indeed, I will!” says I, “unless I go with you,” I said in a hard voice. | |
| “Eoineen! Ny jean! Cha nel fys erbee ec Emily my-e-chione!” Nish v’ee jannoo aghin hym! | “Johnny! Don’t! Emily knows nothing about it!” Now she was pleading to me! | |
| “Cred t’eh, nagh vel fys ec Emily er?” vrie mee j’ee. | “What is it that Emily doesn’t know anything about?” I asked her. | |
| “Mychione goll dys ny sleityn Laa Luanistyn,” dreggyr ish. | “About going to the mountains on Lammas Day,” she answered. | |
| “Foddee dy vel fys eck!” dooyrt mee. | “Maybe she does know!” I said. | |
| “Cha nel, Eoineen, cha nel, t’ee gollrhyt hene ro aeg! Giall dou Eoineen my ghuilley mie, nagh jir oo fockle erbee rish Emily my-e-chione!” | “No, Johnny, no, she is, like yourself, too young! Promise me Johnny my good boy, that you won’t say a single word to Emily about it!” | |
| “Oh, kiart dy liooar, eisht. Cha jiryms fockle erbee r’ee myr-e-chione, agh ta mee foast smooinaghtyn dy beagh eh ny share dhyt mish y ghoaill gys y clieau mayrt!” dreggyr mish. | “Oh, okay, then. I won’t say a single word to her about it, but I still think it would be better for you to take me to mountain with you!” I answered. | |
| “Eoineen, cha n’oddym! Ta mee hannah er my yialdyn! Mannagh row mee, gowin’s uss marym Eoineen, er yn oyr dy vel oo dty ghuilley bwaagh stoamey aalin dy jarroo!” | “Johnny, I can’t! I am already promised! If I wasn’t, I would take you with me Johnny, because you are a handsome, fine-looking boy indeed!” | |
| V’ee mongey orrym reesht, fakin dy row mish er lhiggey’n raad j’ee as erreish dou gialdyn nagh yiarrin veg rish e shuyr Emily mychione y chooish, as myr shen daag mee ish, caarjyn feer choardit ny n’yees[1]. | She was smiling at me again, seeing that I had let her go and after I had promised that I wouldn’t say anything to her sister Emily about the matter, and so I left her, both of us very good friends. | |
|
[1] ny n’yees] — ny-neesht — both.
| ||
| Fakin dy row foast kuse dy laghyn roish Laa Luanistyn, ren mee eabbey ny s’diuney dy chosney fys smoo mychione y chooish, as tra va mee cur shilley er my chionneyderyn arran va mee lhiggey tuittym fockle ny ghaa my-e-chione. | Seeing that there were still a few days before Lammas Day, I made a deeper effort to find more out about the matter, and when I was visiting my bread customers I was dropping a word or two about it. | |
| Deab mee fys y gheddyn ass troor dy vraane Yernagh v’ayn agh v’ad gollrish ny mraane elley as cha naik adsyn cre’n taitnys veagh ayns goll dys ny sleityn agh dy heiy freoaghaneyn as dy ve nyn lhie mastey’n freoagh! | I tried to get information out off three Irish woman that were there, but they were like the other women and they didn’t see what fun there would be in going to the mountians except to pick blaeberries and to be lying amongst the heather! | |
| Va nane jeu fy yerrey as fys eck er shen va mee cheet, ben aeg elley nagh row rieau monney eck dy ghra, as tra scruirr mee dy haggloo mychione freoaghaneyn, y ling as ny sleityn, yeeagh ee orrym lesh mongey lhean er yn eddin eck as dooyrt ee, “Ogh Eoineen, bee oo jummal yn traa ayd shooyl er yn sleityn marish mraane ny shinney na uss, ta palchey jeh ry-gheddyn ayns Balley Chashtal hene!” as cha dooar mee fockle erbee elley assjee my-e-chione! | Finally there was one of them who know what I was alluding to, another young woman who never had much to say, and when I stopped to talk about blaeberries, the ling and the mountains, she looked at me with a wide smile on her face and she said, “O, Johnny, you’ll be wasting your time walking on the hills with women older than youn, there’s plenty of it available in Castletown itself!” and I didn’t another word at all out of her about it! | |
| Phoose Catreeney er y Gheurey cheddin as honnick mee ee laa ennagh er yn Arragh, as v’eh baghtal ry akin dy row ee torragh as faggys da’n traa lhie hoalley eck. | Catreeney married in that same Winter and I saw her one day in the Spring, and it was obvious to see that she was pregnant and near to her confinement. | |
| Tra honnick mee ee, scuirr mee as dooyrt mee r’ee ayns coraa injil, “Cha lhias dhyt goll dys ny sleityn mleeaney Chatreeney!” | When I saw her, I stopped and I said to her in a low voice, “No need for you to go to the mountians this year Catreeney!” | |
| Yeeagh ee orrym myr nagh row ee rieau er chlashtyn mychione sleityn, freoaghaneyn as y lhied, ny mychione cre erbee va’n feallagh ny shinney jannoo ry cheilley tra ragh ad dys ny sleityn Laa Luanistyn, as doshil ee ny sooillyn eck dy oney as dooyrt ee rhym, “C’red t’ou cheet er Eoineen?” | She looked at me as if she had never heard about mountains, blaeberries and the like, or about anything at all the older folk were doing together when they would go to the mountains on Lammas Day, and she opened her eyes innocently and she said to me, “What are you referring to Johnny?” | |
| “Oh cha nel eh veg, cha nel eh veg Chatreeney,” dreggyr mish, as mish mongey urree! | “O nothing, it isn’t anything, Catreeney,” I answered, while (I) smiling at her! | |
| MUTCHY BRIDSON | Mutchy Bridson | |
| Keayrt dy row, tra va mee aeg, yinnagh shin meeiteil rish shenn Vanninagh dooie as Gaelg feer vie echey enmyssit “Mutchy Bridson.” | Once upon a time, when I was young, we would meet an old native Manxman with very good Manx, called “Mutchy Bridson”. | |
| V’eh cummal ec “Kione y Valley” ta shen enmyssit 'sy Vaarle "Malew Street". | He was living at “The End of the Town” which is called “Malew Street” in English. | |
| Un oie va shin ooilley nyn hassoo cheumooie jeh'n thie oast ta nish enmyssit “Yn Glue Pot” as va ymmodee mraane aegey as deiney aegey kionefenish. | One night we were all stood outside the pub that is now called “The Glue Pot” and there were many young women and young men present. | |
| Dooyrt Bill Hom rish ‘Mutchy’, “Cre’n eash vees er ny ’neenyn aegey tra vees eh kiart daue dy gholl marish deiney?” | Bill Hom said to ‘Mutchy’, “What age are the young girls when it is right for them to go with men?” | |
| (Va fys mie ain ooilley er shen ny v’eh cheet er agh cha dooyrt shin veg) | (We all knew well what he was on about, but we didn’t say anything) | |
| “Oh cha s’ayms” dooyrt ‘Mutchy’, “Ny laghyn t’ayn jiu t’ad ny s’daaney ny v’ad tra va mish aeg. Cha s’ayms er chor erbee!” | “Oh, I don’t know” said ‘Mutchy’, “These days they’re bolder than they were when I was young. I don’t know at all! | |
| Lurg tammylt, yeeagh eh dy gheayr orrin, as dooyrt eh, “Er lhiam pene, tra t’ad shenn dy liooar t’ad mooar dy liooar, as tra t’ad mooar dy liooar, t’ad shenn dy liooar!” | After a while, he looked sharply at us, and he said, “I think myself, when they’re old enough they’re big enough, and when they’re big enough, they’re old enough!” | |
| Ta ymmodee skeeallyn elley aym mychione ny shenn laghyn ayns Balley Chashtal as yn sleih va enney aym er tra va mee aeg. | I have many other stories about the old days in Castletown and the people I knew when I was young. | |
| Va Gaelg ec y chooid smoo jeh’n shenn sleih agh cha row ad arryltagh ee y ynsaghey dooinyn er y fa nagh smooinnee ad dy beagh ee jeh monney vondeish dooin 'sy theihll. | Most of the old people knew Manx, but they weren’t willing to teach us because they didn’t think it would be of much use for us in the world. | |
| Smooinnee ad dy row yn Ghaelg kiart dy liooar tra veagh ee loayrit ny mastey Manninee jeh’n kynney injil, lhied as adsyn va gimman carriads da’n ooashlaght as adsyn va jannoo gareydys as y lhied. | They thought that Manx was alright when it was spoken amongst Manx people of the lower type, such as those who were driving carriages for gentry and those who were doing gardening and the like. | |
| Va fer ayn enmyssit “Johnny Quayle the Gardener” as va ram Gaelg echeysyn. | There was one called “Johnny Quayle the Gardener” and he had a lot of Manx. | |
| Dooyrt eh rhym un oie, “Cha jean y Ghaelg cosney ping dhyt ’sy theihll shoh wooinney.” | He said to me one night, “Manx won’t earn you a penny in this world man.” | |
| Son shickyrys cha chossyn ee rieau ping dou hene as mish aynshoh ayns eebyrtys ’sy Chanadey, agh quoi ec ta fys? | For sure, it’ll never earn a penny for me whilst I am here in exile in Canada, but who knows? | |
| Foddee dy vel sleih aegey ayn ayns Mannin as foays oc er chengey ny mayrey, cosnys ram argid as ram taitnys assjee ayns ny bleeantyn ry heet? | Maybe there are young people in the Isle of Man who favour the mother tongue, who will gain a lot of money and a lot of pleasure from her in the years to come? | |
| Ta mish shenn as ta mee raad y vaaish as cha bee ny laghyn liauyr aym er y thalloo agh ta mee shickyr nagh now y Ghaelg baase choud’s vees Ellan Vannin er mayrn. | I’m old and I am dying and my my days won’t be long on earth, but I am sure that Manx won’t die whilst the Isle of Man exists. | |
| Footnote — Ga dy dooar Juan y Comish baase bunnys feed vlein er dy henney, cha nel chengey ny mayrey er n’gholl naardey er chor erbee as ta ny smoo sleih graihagh urree as loayrt assjee nish na va rieau. | Footnote — Although John Comish died almost twenty years ago, the mother tongue has not perished at all and there are more people who love it and speak it now that there ever were. | |
| Ta treisht orrym dy ren shiu goaill taitnys ass ny skeeallyn echeysyn tra ta “Breagagh” er ve ersooyl ass yn Ellan (gyn y wooise da “Stholk ny Marrinee”). | I hope that you enjoyed his stories when “Breagagh” has been away from the Island (no thanks to “the Seamen’s Strike”). | |
| Beeym er ash yn shiaghtyn shoh cheet lesh sthoo elley diu ‘sy cholloo shoh. | I’ll be back next week with other material for you in this column. | |