| Manx | English | |
|---|---|---|
| Noon as Noal'To and Fro' | ||
| Skeeal liorish Juan y Comish, Kirkland Lake, Ontario. Canada. | A Story by John Comish, Kirkland Lake, Ontario, Canada. | |
| GYNSAGHEY CHENGEY MY GHOOIE | Learning my native tongue. | |
| Va mee ruggit ayns Balley Chashtal ’sy vlein 1887 as va my ayr Thomaase y Comish ruggit cheumooie jeh Balley Sallagh ’sy vlein 1856. | I was born in Castletown in the year 1887 and my father Thomas Comish was born outside of Ballasalla in the year 1856. | |
| V’eshyn ny Manninagh dooie as va Gaelg e ghlare veih’n chlean. | He was a true Manxman and Manx was his language from the cradle. | |
| Tra va mee aeg va my ayr gobbraghey ec Knock Rushen, boayl eirinagh cheumooie jeh’n valley as dy mennick va mee marishyn ayns shen, shooyl mygeayrt ny magheryn. | When I was young my father was working at Knock Rushen, an agricultural place outside of the town and often I was with him there, walking around the fields. | |
| Vrie mee jeh dy kinjagh “Cur Gaelg er shoh as Cur Gaelg er shen,” | I always asked him “What’s Manx for this and what’s Manx for that.” | |
| as ga dy dinsh eh ooilley dou, yiarragh eh nagh beagh eh jeh ymmyd erbee dou ny enmyn shen y ynsaghey, agh lurg tammylt daase eh skee ginsh y lhied dou, er yn oyr dy row mee thurneishagh as cha dug mee geill da shen ny dooyrt eh. | And although he told it all to me, he would say that he wouldn’t be of any use to me to learn those names, but after a while he grew tired of telling me so, because I was stubborn and I paid no heed to what he said to me. | |
| She shen myr v’eh eisht, dy row ny enmyn Gaelgagh aym er yn ayrn smoo jeh ny reddyn va gaase ayns ny magheryn, as mish agh my phonniar beg. | That is how it was then, that I knew the Manx names for most of the things that were growing in the fields, whilst I was a little child. | |
| Dy dooghyssagh dy liooar, cha row red erbee Gaelgagh er ny ynsaghey dooin ’sy scoill. | Naturally enough, there was nothing at all Manx taught to us in school. | |
| Cha dynsee shin red erbee mychione Ellan Vannin, e glare ghooie, shennaghys ny h-Ellan ny red erbee bentyn j’ee. | We didn’t learn anything about the Isle of Man, her native language, the history of the Island or anything about it. | |
| Ren ad ny b’are va fys ocsyn dy jannoo nyn Hostynee miey beggey assjin, as haink eh lhieu shen y yannoo ny keayrtyn! | They did what would know best to make good little English people out of us, and they managed to do that sometimes! | |
| Dynsee my ayr yn abyrlhit dou roish my jagh mee dy scoill ec queig bleeaney d’eash as cha nel mee foast er n’yarrood M as N myr dynsee eh ad dou. V’ad ebM as edN. | My father taught the alphabet to me before I went to school at five years of age and I haven’t forgotten yet M and N as he taught them to me. They were ebM and edN. | |
| She shen yn aght myr va ny shenn Vanninee loayrt. | That is the way the old Manx people were speaking. | |
| Hug ad sheean ayns shoh as ayns shen ayns focklyn ennagh raad, smooinagh oo, nagh lhisagh ad ve. Va ben “bedn” as shenn “sheddan”, dy imraa agh jees. | They put a sound in here and there in some words where, you would think, they shouldn’t be. ‘Ben’ (‘woman’) was “bedn” and ‘shenn’ (‘old’) “sheddan”, to mention but two. | |
| Cha nel cooinaghtyn erbee aym jeh Gaelg dynsee my ayr dou dy arryltagh, begin dou briaght son dagh ooilley nhee! | I have no memory at all of any Manx my father taught me willingly, I had to ask for every thing! | |
| Va sleih elley ayn jeh’n chenn heeloghe dy dug[1] mee shilley orroo ny keayrtyn, as, oie dy row, tra daag mee shenn dooinney baccagh as eshyn gynsaghey Gaelg dou, dooyrt eh, “Oie vie, kern!” | There were other people of the old generation that I visited sometimes, and, one night, when I left an old lame man whilst he was teaching me Manx, he said, “Goodnight, ‘kern’ (soldier)!” | |
|
[1] dy dug] independent form
[hug] would be expected here.
| ||
| Vrie mee jeh, “Kern?” | “Kern?” I asked him, | |
| “Ta kern yn fockle kiart son ‘soldier’” as eshyn, “T’ad gra ‘sidoor’ nish agh cha nee kiart eh. Ta ‘kern’ yn fockle kiart son ‘soldier’.” | “Kern is the correct word for ‘soldier’” says he, “They say ‘sidoor’ now, but it is not correct. ‘Kern’ is the correct word for ‘soldier’.” | |
| “Cavalry ny infantry?” vrie mee jeh. | “Cavalry or infantry?” I asked him. | |
| “Cha nel fys aym er ny focklyn shen,” as eshyn. “Agh adsyn t’ayn nish ayns Balley Chashtal, adsyn as cooatyn jiargey orroo as nagh vel cabbil ocsyn.” | “I don’t know those words,” says he. “But those that are in Castletown, those with red coats on them and don’t have horses.” | |
| (Va sheshaght veg dy hidooryn Sostnagh ’sy valley ec y traa shen, er aggle dy jinnagh ny Manninee boghtey girree magh noi Sostyn Wooar!) | (There was a small company of British soldiers in the town at that time, in case the poor Manx would rebel against Great Britain!) | |
| Daag mee yn scoill ayns Balley Chashtal roish my row mee kiare bleeaney jeig d’eash as hoshiaght va mee gobbragh ayns shapp fuinneyder as lurg blein hie mee dy ynsagh keird yn ’uinneyder. | I left school in Castletown before I was fourteen years of age and at first I was working in a bakery and after a year I went to learn the trade of the baker. | |
| Va keayrt (round) aym, creck arran, ayns ny fastyryn beggey, as shimmey shenn ven ny cheerey v’ayn as Gaelg eck ny mast’ ocsyn va mee creck arran daue, as myr shen dynsee mee mooarane vouesyn. | I had a round, selling bread, in the evenings, and there were many old country women who understood Manx amongst those that I was selling bread to, and so I learnt a lot from them. | |
| Yiarragh ad dy jarroo, “Cha chionneemayd dty arran Eoineen, er lhimmey vees Gaelg ayd!” | Indeed, they would say, “We won’t buy your bread Little Johnny, unless you understand Manx!” | |
| Boallin cur shilley er thie my naim as va “Book of Manx Songs” echey, as gagh laa yeeagh mee stiagh ’sy lioar shen. | I used to visit my uncle’s house and he had “Manx Book of Songs”, and every day I would look in that book. | |
| Va Baarle as Gaelg aynjee. | There was English and Manx in it. | |
| Va cooinaghtyn geyre aym ayns ny laghyn shen as yinnin goaill arrane lesh ayrn jeh drane ass y lioar as eisht vriein jeh my ayr yn aght kiart dy ockley magh ny focklyn. | I had a sharp memory in those days and I would sing a song with a part of a verse out of the book and then I would ask my father the correct way to pronounce the words. | |
| Shimmey’n “caggey reeoil’ v’eddyr ain tra hug eh “d” ny “b” stiagh ayns focklyn ennagh — “Cha nee kiart shen”, boallin gra, “Cha nel 'd' ayn!”. | Many’s the “battle royale” there was between us when he put “d” or “b” into some words — “That’s not correct”, I used to say, “There’s no ‘d’ in it!”. | |
| Hie eh bunnys ass e cheeal eisht as yiarragh eh “Cha s’ayms cre’n aght t’eh scruit agh shen myr t’eh loayrit!" | He almost lost his mind then and he would say “I don’t know how it’s spelt, but that is how it’s spoken!” | |
| She’n red cheddin v'ayn lesh “Corneil ny Baitchyn”, colloon ayns Baarle as Gaelg liorish J. J. Kring ayns “Brialtagh Ellan Vannin”. | It was the same with “Corneil ny Baitchyn” (‘The Children’s Corner’) a column in English and Manx by J. J. Kneen in “The Isle of Man Examiner”. | |
| Hass mish lesh yn fockle scruit as hass my ayr lesh yn aght va Gaelg er ve loayrit rish sheeloghyn gyn earroo! | I would insist on the written word and my father would insist on the way Manx was spoken for innumerable generations! | |
| Dooyrt my yishag laa dy row, “T’ad cheet noal dys Mannin as t’ad geabbey dy ynsagh dooin yn aght kiart dy loayrt eer chengey ny mayrey!" | My dad said none day, “They’re coming over to Mann and they’re trying to teach us the correct way to speak even our mother tongue!” | |
| Dy jarroo ta mee smooinaghtyn dy jagh yn Gaelg voish yn olk gys yn smessey car ny bleeantyn shen. | Indeed, I think the Manx went from bad to worse during those years. | |
| Hooar mee lioaran ass yn Ellan tammylt er dy henney as dimraa eh boayl ta enney aym er, as ’sy lioaran t’eh scruit dy vel yn aght kiaragh dy ’ockley magh ennym y voayl “Pool Vaysh”. | I got a pamphlet from the Island a while ago and it mentioned a place I recognise, and in the pamphlet it is written that the right way to pronounce the name of the place “Pool Vaysh”. | |
| Son shickyrys t’eh scruit “Poyll Vaaish” er ny caslyssyn cheerey, agh tra va mee my lhiannoo, goaill greim er laue my ayrey as honnick mee yn boayl shen son y chied keayrt, dinsh my ayr dou dy row yn ennym jeh “Pul Vahsh”. | For sure, it’s written “Pooyl Vaaish” on the maps, but when I was a child, holding my father’s hand, and I saw that place for the first time, I father told me that the name of it was “Pul Vahsh”. | |
| She shen myr v’eh eisht dy b’egin dou gynsaghey my hengey ghooie my lomarcan, gyn monney cooney agh voish feallagh ny ghaa feer henn, as cre’n vondeish t’ee er ve dooys car ny bleeantyn? | That’s how it was then — I had to learn my native language alone, without much help except from a few very old folk, and what benefit has it been to me through the years? | |
| Cha row ee mooarane edyr, er yn oyr dy jagh mee roym er y cheayn tra va mee ynsit dy ve my ’uinneyder. | It wasn’t much, at all, because I went on my way on the sea when I was trained to be a baker. | |
| Rish ymmodee bleeantyn va carrey Manninagh aym ayns Lerphul, raad va mee shiaulley magh ass ayns lhongyn “Blue Funnel”, | For many years I had a Manx friend in Liverpool, where a was sailing out from in “Blue Funnel” ships. | |
| guilley gollrhym pene b’ynney lesh y chenn ghlare. | A boy like myself who loved the old language. | |
| Va Jamys Mac Andreas yn ennym ersyn. | James Anderson (or, James McAndrews) was his name. | |
| Tra harrin dy valley ec kione my hurryssyn boallagh shin taggloo ayns y chenn ghlare, agh hooar eh baase. | When I would come home at the end of my trips we used to ralk in the old language, but he died. | |
| Ny keayrtyn veagh Albinagh ny Yernagh shiaulley marym ayns lhong ennagh as Gaelg e heer hene echey as veagh coloayrtys eddyr ain, agh, lesh goll shaghey ny bleeantyn, daase yn Ghaelg aym annoon as ny s’annooney as va glaraghyn elley goaill ynnyd j’ee, er yn oyr dy row mee rieau cha jeean dy ynsaghey glaraghyn elley as va mee, keayrt dy row tra va mee aeg, dy ynsaghey chengey ny mayrey Ellan Vannin. | Sometimes there would be a Scotsman or an Irishman sailing with us in some ship and he woul know the Gaelic of his own country and there would be conversation between us, but, as the years passed, my Manx became weaker and weaker and other languages were taking her place, because I was always as keen to learn other languages as I was, once upon a time when I was young, to learn the native language of the Isle of Man. | |
| JUAN DOO | JUAN DOO (‘Black John’) | |
| Screeuyn voish Juan y Comish gys Manninagh tra chionnee eh “Juan Doo, Shiaulteyr”, ayns Canada ayns 1955. | A letter from John Comish to a Manxman when he bought “Juan Doo, Shiaulteyr”, in Canada in 1955. | |
| Hooar mee Juan Doo, shiaulteyr, tammylt er dy henney as t’eh bunnys erskyn oltooan. | I received “Juan Doo, Shiaulteyr” (‘Black John, Sailor), a while ago and it is almost beyond reproach. | |
| Lhisagh shinyn as Gaelg ain cur bwooise da Art Mac Ghavid as R. L. Thomson, ny deiney ooasle shen ren screeu y lioar. | We who know Manx should give thanks to Art Mac Ghavid and R. L. Thompson, those noble men who wrote the book. | |
| She red doillee eh dy hoiggal as red joarree eh, tra ta shin fakin lioar Ghaelgagh scruit ec deiney nagh row ruggit nyn Vanninee, as adsyn ginsh da ny Manninee yn currym ocsyn mychione freayll bio chengey ny mayrey oc hene! | It is a difficult thing to understand and a strange thing, when we see a Manx book written by men who weren’t born Manxmen, and then telling the Manx their duty concerning keeping their own native language alive! | |
| Shimmey Manninagh dooie ayns ny laghyn foddey er dy henney, as eer ayns ny laghyn t’ayn jiu, t’er ghwee dyn dy hreigeil y Ghaelg, agh er lhiam dy vel ad ooilley er ve gollrish coraa geamagh ’syn aasagh er ny oyr nagh vel Gaelg ayns creeaghyn ny Manninee arragh. | Many’s the native Manxman in the far off days of yore, and even these days, who have beseeched not to forsake Manx, but I think that they have all been like a voice calling out in the wilderness because Manx isn’t in the hearts of the Manx people anymore. | |
| Lhig dooin moylley ny deiney ard ooasle shoh son yn obbyr yindyssagh oc as yn eab ocsyn dy reayll bio as dy jarroo dy chroo, lettyraght noa ’sy Ghaelg. | Let’s praise these highly worthy men for their wonferful work and their attempt to keep alive, and indeed to create new literature in Manx. | |
| Cha lhisagh mooarane doilleeidyn ve ayn, ta deiney ’syn ellan as palchey Gaelg oc foast as deiney elley ’syn Ellan as “oashyryn liauyrey”[2] oc! | There shouldn’t be much difficulty, there are still men in the Isalnd with plenty of Man and other men in the Island with “Long Stockings”! | |
|
[2] oashyryn liauyrey] ‘long stockings’, evidently meaning ‘deep pockets’.
| ||
| Lhisagh ad cheet ry cheilley as sauail chengey ny mayrey voish goll mow. | They should come together and save the mother tongue from extinction. | |
| Juan y Comish | John Comish | |