| Manx | English | |
|---|---|---|
| PINGYN YN OMMIDAN | The Fool’s Pennies. | |
| Ayns balley-mergee dy row, va fer-cheirdey enmysit Thom —, as v’eh ayr da queig dy chloan. Cha row eh er ny ve ass obbyr rish kiare bleeaney jeig my baillish gobbragh. Agh dynsee eh yn drogh-chliaghtey jeh goll gys y thie-oast marish shiartanse dy vlebinyn, bunnys dy chooilley laa. Ayns y voghrey er raad gys e obbyr, cha noddagh eh geddyn shaghey fegooish goll stiagh son bine, myr dooyrt eh hene, “dy choyrt yn gheay ass e veeal,” as dy gholl shaghey er e raad thie ec yn oie, fegooish goll stiagh dy yannoo byt dy chooish harrish pynt ny jees, ve red nagh hargagh eh smooinaghtyn er jannoo. | In certain market-town there was a tradesman called Tom —, and he was a father to five children. He wouldn’t have been out of work for fourteen years if he had been prepared to work. But he learnt the bad habit of going to the pub with several blockheads, almost every day. In the morning on his way to his work, he couldn’t get past without going in for a drop, as he himself said, “to put the wind out of his mouth”[1] and going past on his way home at night without going in to have a bit of a chat over a pint or two, was a thing he couldn’t think about doing. | |
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[1] dy choyrt yn gheay ass e veeal—Perhaps an idiom equivalent to ‘to put the wind in his sails’, or ‘to freshen up’?
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| Ny-cheayrtyn, as cha nee feer anvenick noadyr, ragh eh roish gys y thie-oast, as hoieagh eh sheese giu gys foddey lurg traa-lhie. Lheid y greim lajer ghow’n cleayn shoh er, derry heill y dooinney boght dy row eh red va nauyn da, as nagh voghe eh dy bragh rey rish. | Sometimes, and not very seldom either, he would go to the pub, and he would sit down drinking until long after bedtime. Such a strong grip upon him this inclination took, until the poor man would supposed that it was something that was a necessity for him, and that he would never get rid of it. | |
| V’eh fakin e ven-heshey coamrit ayns frytlaggyn, as va’n chenjallys boallagh ve eddyr oc ceaghlut gys troiddey, streeu, oltooan, as bwoalley. Va’n chloan myrgeddin goll mow laccal bee as eaddagh. Cha row fort echey faill ’choyrt da’n vainshtyr-schoillar son y nynsagh oc, as cha row fys echey ayns e cheeayl cre’d dy yannoo. | He was seeing his wife dressed in rags, and the kindness that used to be between them changed to rowing, strife, insult, and thumping. The children were also perishing for lack of food and clothing. He didn't have the means to give pay to the school-master for their education, and he didn’t know in his mind[2] what to do | |
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[2] as cha row fys echey ayns e cheeayl—Perhaps an idiom equivalent to ‘at his wit’s end’?
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| Dy-ve-shickyr v’eh geddyn faill vie cour y chiaghtin, agh c’raad va’n argid ooilley goll cha bione da. Er-lesh nagh blhiass da’n ven ve jannoo wheesh dy feiyr,—cha row’n bine v’eh goaill ’sy voghrey red mooar, ny ec y vunlaa, as cha nee lane glen v’eh goaill toshiaght ny hoie—my haghyragh da laa ny jees dy iu ’ghoaill nish as reesht, er-lesh nagh beeu j’ee taggloo jeh, son, my beeir da hene, va lheid y red ymmyrchagh son dy niartaghey as dy chummal seose e challin, lurg garrey trome dy obbyr chreoie; as v’eh goaill er dy ghra, nagh row ny v’eh giu, red erbee as y raad da dooinney va tooilleil cha doccaragh as veshyn. | To be sure, he was getting good weekly pay, but where all the money was going he knew not. He thought the missus didn’t need to make so much din,— the drop he was taking in the morning wasn’t a big thing, nor at midday, and he wasn’t starting the night completely unaffected—if he happened to have a day or two of drinking, he thought it wouldn’t be worth talking of, because if what he said to himslef was true, such a thing was necessary for to strenghthen and to support his body, after a heavy spell of hard work; and he was presuming to say, that what he was drinking wasn’t anythng untoward for a man who was toiling as hard as he was. | |
| V’eh goaill rish dy row eh, paart dy cheayrtyn, cur roie beg gys y thie-oast Jedoonee dy geddyn bine, as cre’n assee mooar oddagh ve ayns jannoo shen, fakin dy row leigh as cliaghtey ny cheerey lowal jeh, as sleih elley va foddey share na ve hene jannoo, er-nonney begin da hreigeil y cheshaght oc. V’eh cur ooilley e voghtynid as e hennid gy leih drogh chiarail ayns aght ny aght ennagh, agh cha bleayr da kys oddagh eh ve kyndagh rish hene, as v’eh goaill feer olk rish dy row’n ven cha kinjagh baggyrt as geddyn foill da. | He was admitting that he was, sometimes, giving a lttle run to the pub on Sunday, to get a drop, and what great harm could there be in doing that, seeing that the law and custom of the land allowed it, otherwise he would have to forsake their company. He was putting all his poverty and his distress down to bad planning in some way or other, but it wasn’t clear to him how he could be guilty himself, and he was taking it very badly that the missus was so constantly threatening and blaming him. | |
| Agh myr v’eh ny hoie ayns y thie-oast er moghrey Doonaght dy row lurg da ny iuderyn elley v’er n’gholl magh, haghyr dy daink ny fir-oik mygeayrt, as son dy cheiltyn eh voue, as dy haghney smaght y leigh, deie yn ven-oast,—“Houe! Thom Veen, ta ny polees-manyn cheet! as my haarys ad uss ayns shoh, ny my hee ad oo goll magh, cha shickyr as lhiass dy bee mayd ny-neesht fienit; son ta kiare ooryn Casherick er y Doonaght, ayndoo nagh jean eh mie dou stoo ’chreck, er-nonney, my yiow ad shoh fys er caill-ym yn oastys, as bee’m creeuit son dy bragh. Tar-royd seose ny greeshyn marym, as ver-ym shilley dhyt jeh ny reddyn bwaaghey t’er y lout, choud as vees adsyn jeeaghyn ayns shoh wass. Bannaght ort! jean siyr.” | But as he was sat in the pub on one Sunday morning after the other drinkers had gone out, it so happened that the officers came around, and to conceal him from them, and to avoid the discipline of the law, the landlady called—“Hey! Tom love, the policemen are coming! and if they catch you in here, or if they see you going out, it’s as sure as needs be we’ll both be fined; for there are four holy hours on a Sunday, in which it won’t do for me to sell stuff, otherwise, if they find out about it, I’ll lose the license and I’ll be ruined forever. Come on up the stairs with me, and I’ll give you a sight of the spendid things in the loft, whilst they’ll be looking down here. Bless you! Hurry up!” | |
| Shoh raait, hie eh geiyrt urree veih boayl dy boayl, as goaill lane yoindys jeh’n stoo-thie ooasle, as ny fillosheryn mooarey v’eh fakin, dooyrt eh rish hene, “Sheain-y-mie orryms![3] ta’n thie shoh goll-rish Plaase.” As ve mirril da kys oddagh lheid ny reddyn ’ve. | This said, he followed her from place to place, and was completely amazed by the posh furniture, and great ornaments he was seeing, he said to himself, “Oh my God! this house is like a palace!” And it was a miracle to him how such things could be. | |
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[3] sheain eh mie orrin—in. an interjection of wonder or surprise, praying that God might diffuse his good peace on or among us. (Cregeen).
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| Choud as v’eh myr shoh dowin smooinaghtyn, as dy trimshagh blakey, ren eh cosoylagh ’yannoo, ayns e aigney, eddyr yn verchys v’eh fakin mygeayrt y mysh, as yn voghtynid, yn treihys, as y trustyr v’ayns e hie hene. | Whilst he was thinking deeply like this, and staring sadly, he made a comparison in his mind, between the riches he was seeing around about him, and the poverty, the misery, and the rubbish that was in his own house. | |
| Lurg shen, hug ee lh’ee stiagh eh ayns ynnyd va enmysit yn Drawing-room—as mannagh ghow Thom yindys roie ghow yindys eisht. Cha row fys echey ayns e cheeayl c’red dy ghra. Tra honnick eh yn coodagh bwaagh er-bastal v’er y laare, v’eh agglit—cha bloys da wheesh as e chass ’chur er—dy jarroo dooyrt ee rish eh dy ghlenney e chassyn my darragh eh stiagh. Agh ghow eh foddey, foddey smoo dy yindys tra honnick eh yn Gless-tuarystal aalin, va wheesh as dy row eh roshtyn bunnys voish y laare seose gys y seelin, ayn ve’h fakin slane caslys e chorp hene coamrit ayns shenn eaddagh ceauit, broigh, as frytagh, ga nagh row clooid caghlaaee arragh echey. | After that, she brought him into the place called the Drawing-room—and if Tom wasn’t amazed before, he was astounded then. He didn’t have a clue what to say. When he saw the incredibly splendid covering that was on the floor he was afraid—he didn’t dare put as much as his foot on it—indeed, she told him to clean his feet if he were to go in. However, he was far, far more amazed when he saw the beautiful mirror, that was so big that it reached almost from the floor up to the ceiling. In it he saw the full image of his own body, covered in old worn-out clothing, filthy, and ragged, although he had no more change of cloth. | |
| Agh v’eh ec kione e cheilley ooilley-cooidjagh tra doshil y ven-oast coolley v’er red myr towl ’sy voayl, raad va skellooyn soit magh lesh red earrooagh dy hiyn sollys, soilshean myr whilleen rollage. Doshil eh e veeal as e hooillyn, hrog eh seose e laueyn, as deie eh magh, “Dy-saue-bannee mee! Ven vooar! Cre’n aght ayns y theihll hooar shiu ooilley ny reddyn mirrilagh shoh? “Cammah Yuilley,” as ish, gearey as cassey ’gob er, “LESH PINGYN YN OMMIDAN SHICKYR.” | However, he was at the end of his wits altogether when the landlady opened a door that was over something like a hole in the wall, where there were shelves set out with a numerous amount of bright vessels, shining like so many stars. He opened his mouth and his eyes, he raised up his hands, and he called out “Save and bless me! Great woman! How in the world did you get all these miraculous things?” | |
| “Come on boy,” she said, smiling and twisting her mouth, “SURE, WITH THE FOOL’S PENNIES.” | ||
| Agh hie ny goan cheddin, pingyn yn ommidan, myr syde gys cree Hom, as dooyrt eh rish hene, “Ommidan! ommidan dy-liooar ta mish er ve son fer.” Eisht hie eh roish lesh ny focklyn eck dy dowin gruntit ayns e chooinsheanse. As myr v’eh goaill y bayr, dy trimshagh screebey e chione as taggloo rish hene, ren eh gialdin shickyr y yannoo, ayns e aigney, nagh darragh eh stiagh ayns y thie s’jerree v’eh er n’aagail, ny ayns thie erbee elley jeh’n sorch, son slane blein—agh my veagh eh bio, as ooilley dy mie traa shen, dy derragh eh shilley ayns reesht. | But the same words, the fool’s pennies, went like an arrow to Tom’s heart, and he said to himself, “A fool! Quite a fool of a man I’ve been.” Then he went off with her words grounded deep in his conscience. And as he was taking the road, sadly scratching his head and talking to himself, he made a steadfast promise, in his mind, that he wouldn’t come into the last house he had left, or into any other house of the sort, for a full year—but, if he were alive, and all well at that time, that he would put a visit in again. | |
| Tra rosh eh thie, ghow’n ven as ny paitchyn lane yindys dy row eh er jeet cha leah, son she feer anvennick v’eh cliaghtey heet roish traa-lhie. As tra va’n astyr er n’gholl er dy mie, ghow eh yn Vible neose jeh’n lat, raad v’ee er ny ve faagit ry foddey dy hraa coodit lesh joan, myr red neufeeu, as lhaih eh cabdil ny jees daue ass j’ee my jagh ad gys fea. | When he reached home, the missus and the children were amazed that he had come so soon, because it was very unusual that he used to come before bedtime. And when the evening had progressed well, he took the Bible down off the shelf, where it had been left for a long time, covered in dust, like a useless object, and he read a chapter or two to them from it before they went to rest. | |
| Moghrey yn laa er-giyn, haghyr dy row shiartanse dy skilleeyn echey nagh row baarit, as hug eh ad da unnane jeh ny inneenyn, gra r’ee “Nish, immee royd dy bieau as kionnee stuggey dy willeen, kuse dy hea, shuggyr, eeym, as caashey—jean siyr thie lhiannoo mie.” Ren shoh ard voggey da’n slane lught-thie. Dy jarroo va’n ven caillit ayns yindys. Ghow eshyn greim er y laue eck, as dooyrt eh r’ee, “Henn Venn, ta mee shegin dy vel oo goaill yindys jeem, as cha nurrys lhiam dhyt, agh insh-yms dhyt c’re, dynsee mish lessoon jea nagh jarg-ym dy leah ’yarrood. Ta mee er n’yannoo seose my aigney nagh bee’m veg sodjey ec y ven-oast jooigh er louyn; as tra yiow uss mish reesht ceau ersooyl argid er y stoo—eer un phing—foddee oo cre sailt ghra rhym.” Shoh va’n laa s’gerjoilagh va rieau er ny vaarail cooidjagh liorish y lught-thie cheddin; dy jarroo dooyrt y ven nagh row ee veg s’maynrey er laa yn phoosee eck. | The morning of the following day, it happened that he had several shillings that weren’t spent, and he gave them to one of the daughters, saying to her; “Now, go on quickly and buy a large portion of a loaf, a little tea, sugar, butter, and cheese—hurry back home good child.” This caused great joy for the whole family. Indeed, the missus was lost in wonder. He took a hold of her hand, and he said to her, “Old Lady, I guess that you’re surprised at me, and it’s no wonder I think for you, but I’ll tell you what, I learned a lesson yesterday that I won’t be able to soon forget. I’ve made up my mind that the gready landlady won’t have me on a lead any longer; and when you find me throwing money away on the stuff again—even one penny—you can say what you like to me.” This was the the happiest day that was ever spent together by the said family; indeed, the wife said that she wasn’t any happier on her wedding day. | |
| Fy-yerrey, haink kione ny bleeaney er dyn traa daag Thom jeh goll gys y thie-oast. She moghrey Doonaght giall souree v’ayn, as dooyrt eh rish e ven as ny paitçhyn, ad dy chur nyn eaddagh share moo ayns traa dy ghoaill walkal marish ec hoght er y chlagg; as myr bynney lhieu dy ve biallagh da, cha row ad lhag ayns jannoo myr hir eh orroo. Eisht ghow eh greim er roih e ven, as leeid dagh unnane oc fer jeh’n chloan saa er e laue, as hie yn eallagh shinney lhiemyraght dy reagh hoshiaght roue. | Finally, the end of the year since Tom quit going to the pub came. It was a bright summer Sunday morning, and he said to his wife and the children for them to put on their best clothing in time to take a walk with him at eight o’clock; and as they loved to be obedient to him, they weren’t slack in doing as he hurried them to do. Then he took a hold of his wife’s arm, and led each one of them, one of the younger children on his hand, and the older ones went skipping merrily ahead of them. | |
| Myr shoh jimmee ad derrey haink ad gys y thie-oast ayn boallagh Thom ve ceau wheesh jeh eh hraa sluggey, as shassoo cheu-mooie jeeragh er y dorrys, dooyrt eh rish e ven, “Nish Vuddee, shegin dhyts as ny paitchyn gholl stiagh maryms ayns shoh son thootchey beg, as hee-ys shiu red ennagh vees taitnyssagh diu.” | They went like this until they came to the pub in which Tom used to be speanding so much of his time gulping, and standing right outside of the door, he said to his wife, “Now, Lass, you and the children must come in here with me for a little while, and you’ll see something that you’ll enjoy.” | |
| Tra cheayll y ven eh er ghra shoh, v’ee ooilley er-creaue, goaill aggle dy row yn dooinney eck goll dy huittym dys giu ass-y-noa. Ny-yeih, hie ad stiagh, as shen-y-raad hooar Thom e henn chumraagyn kiart myr boallagh ad ve tra v’eh hene goaill y scooyr marroo roish nish—faasaagagh, frytlagh, as breinn, myr nagh beagh bine dy ushtey’ sy cheer. Tra honnick ad Thom, marish e ven as ny paitchyn er jeet, lheim ad seose, as dyllee ad, “Ha! Thomas, cre’n gheay t’er heidey gys shoh shiu?” Son ga dy re Thom Doo, yarragh ad rish roie, va’d gra Thomas rish nish. | When the wife heard him having said this, she was all atremble[4], afraid that her husband was going to fall to drink afresh. Nevertheless, they went in, and there Tom found his old comrades just as they used to be when he himself was partaking of the booze with them before now—beardy, ragged, and stinking, as if there wasn’t a drop of water in the country. When they saw Tom, with his wife and the children having come, they jumped up, and they shouted, “Ha! Thomas, what wind has blown you to here?” For though Black Tom is what they’d call him before, they were calling him Thomas now. | |
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[4] v’ee ooilley er-creaue—Perhaps an idiom equivalent to ‘a shiver went down her spine’?
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| Tra hug y ven-oast myner dooinney as ben doaieagh, marish queig pohnnaryn stuitt as dy mie coamrit er jeet stiagh, ghow ee lane glen yindys; son va caghlaa cronnal ayndoo voish ny drollaneyn boght leih-veshtal va kionenish. “Cammah, Ven-y-thie,” dooyrt Thom, “vel shiu cur enn orrym?” “Cammah,” dreggyr ish, dy brynnagh, “s’coan my ta, foast, er-lhiam dy vel mee er n’akin shiu roie.”—“Hem’s raane dy vel shen, as keayrt ny ghaa neesht, Ven-y-thie,” dooyrt eshyn, “mish Thom, ’nane jeh ny shenn ainjyssee eu.” “Graih Vannaght!” as ish, “nod eh ve? As solley she neesht. Cre’n caghlaa mooar shoh t’er jeet erriu? Nee’m y hickyrys dy vel shiu bryd[5] dooinney seyr nish. Nee shoh yn ven,—vel ad shoh ny paitchyn eu? Tar-jee reue sheese ’sy pharlar—jean shiu goaill red erbee dy iu? Cre cha poinnee as ta shiu ooilley. Cre’n aght ayns y theihll ta shoh er daghyrt?”—“Oh! ven-y-thie,” dreggyr Thom, “cha vel nhee erbee sassey, pingyn yn ommidan boallin ve cur dhyts dy choamrey oo hene as dty hie mooar, ta mee nish freayll son yn ymmyd ain hene.” | When the landlady beheld a decent man and woman, with five stout and well dressed children had come in, she was completely amazed; for there was an obvious difference in them compared to the poor half-drunk dullards who were present. “Hey, Landlady,” said Tom, “do you recognise me?” “What,” she answered, fawingly, “hardly but, yet, I think I’ve seen you before.”—“I’ll warrant that, and many’s the time too, Landady,” he said, “I’m Tom, one of your old acquaintances.” “Blessed Love!” she said, “Can it be? And so it is too. What’s this great change that’s come upon you? I’ll make the assurance that you are a fine gentleman now. Is this the wife,—are these your children? Come on down into the parlour—will you have anything to drink? How sturdy you all are. How in the world has this happened?”—“O, Landlady,” answered Tom, “there’s nothing easier, the fool’s pennies I used to be giving to you to clothe yourself and your big house, I now keep for our own use.” | |
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[5] bryd—bred—‘fine’ (Kelly)
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| Eisht faagail slane-dy-bra ec y ven-oast as ny stooghyn meshtal, hie eh hene, as y ven as ny paitchyn roue gys Boayl Ooashlee, dy ve currit ayns cooinaghtyn jeh nyn gurrym liorish dooinney crauee va preacheil y sushtal ayns firrinys, as soilshagh sampleyr y dy heeltys da’n pobble, liorish dyn giu stoo erbee va jeh bree dy chur lesh neuheeltys. | Then, leaving the landlady with a farewell-for-ever, himself and the wife and children went on to the Place of Worship, to be reminded of their duties by a religious man who was preaching the gospel in truth, and to show an example of sobriety to the people, by not drinking any stuff with the power to bring forth insobriety. | |
| Pingyn Yn Ommidan | Fool’s Pence | |
| “Jeeagh royd, eer ayns raad rea.” | “Look ahead, even in straight way.” | |
| Cur shiu tastey vie, my chaarjyn. | Take good heed, my friends. | |
| Da shoh neem’s soilsliagh diu ; | For this I will explain to you; | |
| Te mygeayrt-y-mysh fer cheirdey | It’s about a tradesman | |
| Ghow taitnys mooar ayns giu. | Who took great pleasure in drinking. | |
| Dooinney jeh yn valley-vargee, | A man of the (market) town, | |
| Va geddyn yn aill vooar, | Who was receiving a large salary, | |
| Agh baarail lane jeh ’hoilliu v’eh, | But spending much of his reward, | |
| Er jough ta coyrt yn scooyr. | On intoxicating drink. | |
| Cha row eh er ve ass obbyr | He had not been out of work | |
| Rish bleeantyn liauyr dy hraa, | For many long years, | |
| My baillish hene agh gobbraghey, | If (only) he would have been pleased just to work, | |
| Myr ver mayd tastey da ; | As we will take note, | |
| Agh veagh eh cur roie ny cheartyn, | But sometimes he’d be cutting loose, | |
| Myr dooyrt eh, “son y spree, | As he said “for the spree, | |
| Dy chumiual seose niart yn challin, | To uphold the body’s strength, | |
| Lurg garrey d’obbyr chreoi.” | After a turn of hard work.” | |
| Ayns y voghrey tra v’eh goll magh | In the morning, when he was going out | |
| V’eh goll roish dy’n thie-oast; | He was going to the inn; | |
| Ayns shen v’eh giu jeh’n cappan breinn, | There, he was drinking of the filthy cup, | |
| Hug lesh eh dy ve boght; | That impoverished him; | |
| Agh foast lane yindys v’eh dy ghoaill | But still he was very puzzled, | |
| Jeh’n argid v’eh baarail; | At the Money he was spending; | |
| Er aght erbee, cha chronnee eh | Somehow, he didn’t notice | |
| Cre’n red va stroie e aill. | What it was that was obliterating his pay. | |
| E chloan v’ad feer frytlagh, | His children were really shabby, | |
| Eh-hene ny rytlag vooar, | He himself a big rag, | |
| Cha row eh wheesh as cur tastey | He wasn’t so much as taking notice, | |
| Cre’n assee v’ayns y scooyr ; | Of the harm that was in the booze; | |
| Yn bine v’eh dy goaill ’sy voghrey | The sip he was taking in the morning | |
| Cha row cur da yn scooyr; | Wasn’t getting him trashed, | |
| Shen ny v’eh giu ec y vunlaa, | That which he was drinking at midday, | |
| V’eh gra, nagh row eh mooar. | He’d say, it wasn’t much. | |
| Tra veagh e obbyr laa ec kione | When his day’s work was done | |
| V’eh fakin eh red mie, | He saw it a good thing, | |
| Dy iu shiartanse braue dy phyntyn, | To drink a good several pints, | |
| Roish harragh eh dy lhie; | Before he’d come to bed; | |
| She boghtynid, as mellid vooar, | Poverty and great infirmity, | |
| Ren tuittym er dy chion; | That rapidly befell him; | |
| E ven va goll neeu feme beaghey, | His wife was fainting for lack of food, | |
| As myr shen neesht va’n chloan. | And the children were like that too. | |
| Chamoo dod eh geeck yn Mainshter, | Neither could he pay the Master, | |
| Son gynsagh daue nyn schoill; | For teaching them their schooling; | |
| As dy feer olk shen v’eh goaill rish, | And was very badly was he admitting that, | |
| Yn ven ve geddyn foill: | He was blaming the wife. | |
| Yn choardail vie va eddyr oc | The good relations that were between them | |
| Hyndaa gys troiddey dewil; | Turned to cruel conflict; | |
| Gys baggyrt, bwoalley, as oltooan, | To threatening, thumping and harsh words, | |
| As jannoo aigney’n jouyl. | And doing the devil’s will. | |
| Er lesh nagh b’lhiass j'ee ve feiyral, | He thought she didn’t need make a noise, | |
| Son y bine v’eshyn goaill; | About the sip he was taking; | |
| As ayns jannoo wheesh dy woirey | And in making so much bother | |
| V’eh fakin red feer voal. | He was seeing it as an ordinary thing. | |
| V’eh goaill-rish shoh, dy onneragh, | This he was admitting, honourably, | |
| Kiongoyrt rish dagh unuaue, | In the presence of everyone, | |
| Dy bynney mie lesh yn thie-oast, | That he’d ove well to spend | |
| Dy cheau ayn Laa yn Chiarn. | The Lord’s Day in the inn. | |
| Fy-yerrey haink yn arreyder, | Finally the constable came, | |
| Stiagh huc, gyn-yss, cooyl-thie, | In to them, unkown, behind the house, | |
| Yn Doonaght shen va’n iuder boght | That Sabbath the poor drinker was | |
| Ayns yn thie-oast ny hoie; | Sitting in the inn; | |
| Eisht deie yn ven-oast, ayns tullogh, | Then the landlady called him, instantly, | |
| “Thom veen ! tar seose er ’lout! | “Tom, Love,! Come up to the loft! | |
| Ta tammylt mie er y Doonaght | It’s already well into the Sabbath | |
| Dy chreck cha vel mish lowit:” | I’m not allowed to sell.” | |
| “Bee mayd sumnit er-gys y whaiyll.” | “We’ll be summoned to the court.” | |
| Ny sodjey ren ee gra,— | Further, she said, - | |
| “Eishtagh caill-yms kied yn oastys, | “Then I’ll lose my license, | |
| As creujit vee’m son dy braa.” | And crushed I’ll be forever.” | |
| She heose er y lout v’eh follit, | Its up in the loft he was hidden, | |
| Raad va ny reddyn s’baaie ; | Where the prettiest things were, | |
| Va Thom boght caillit ayns yindys, | Poor Tom was lost in wonder, | |
| Cha vaik eh rieau lheid roie. | He’d never seen the like. | |
| Hug eh my-ner yn coodagh bwaagh, | He noticed the pretty cover, | |
| Va skeaylt dy lhean er ’laare, | That was spread wide on the floor, | |
| As siyn argid va londyrnee | And silver vessels that glistened, | |
| Myr sollyssid yn aer ; | Like the brighness of the sky; | |
| Eisht yeeagh eh ’sy ghless-tuarystal, | Then he saw in the mirror, | |
| Raad va e chaslys hene, | Where his own image was, | |
| Coamrit ayns frytlaggyn dy liooar ; | Clothed in plenty of rags; | |
| E gharmad moal as breinn. | His garment miserable and filthy. | |
| Thom boght ceaught fud-y-cheilley va, | Poor Tom was thrown into confusion, | |
| Tra hooar eh’n shilley jeh, | When he got a sight of it, | |
| As vrie eh jeh’n ven-oast aalin, | And he asked of the beautiful landlady, | |
| “Kys oddys shoh y ve?” | “How can this be?” | |
| She heose ayns yn ard-shamyr v’ad, | It’s up in the main room they were, | |
| Va soit magh erskyn-towse,— | That was set out beyond measure,- | |
| “PINGYN YN OMMIDAN,” dooyrt ish, | “FOOL’S PENNIES”, she said, | |
| “T’er choyrt shoh ooilley dooys.” | “Is what has brought all this to me.” | |
| Agh hie Pingyn yn Ommidan | But ‘Fool’s pennies’ went | |
| Myr side er-gys e chree ; | To his heart like an arrow; | |
| Gra dy row eh ny Ommidan, | Saying that he was a fool, | |
| Ny smoo na b’lhiass da ’ve : | Was unecessarily excessive. | |
| Eisht haink eh roish chelleeragh magh, | Then he came straight out, | |
| As daag eh yn thie-oast, | And left the inn, | |
| Resooney dowin, ayn hene cheu-sthie, | A deep reasoning within him, | |
| Dy beagh eh creeney foast. | That he would be wise yet. | |
| Tra rosh eh gys e lught-thie hene, | When he reached his own family, | |
| Vad caillt ayns yindys mooar, | They were lost in great wonder, | |
| Dy row eh er jeet thie cha leah ; | That he was coming home so soon; | |
| Fegooish v’er ghoaill y scooyr. | Without having gone on the booze. | |
| Ghow eh yn Vible neose jeh’n lat, | He took the Bible down from the shelf, | |
| Coodit lesh sooiee as joan, | Covered with soot and dust, | |
| As lhaih eh cabdil bwaagh ass-jee, | And he read a fine chapter from it, | |
| Da’n ven as da e chloan. | For his wife and for his children. | |
| Agh dy moghey laa ny-vairagh, | But early the next day, | |
| Ghow'n ven lane yindys jeh, | He wife was amazed, | |
| Tra hug eh argid ass e laue | When he handed over money | |
| Da ’neen dy chionnagh tea ; | To his daughter to buy tea; | |
| Myrgeddin shuggyr, caashey, eeym, | Sugar as well, cheese, butter, | |
| As stuggey dy willeen, —¦ | And a large portion of a loaf, — | |
| Shoh myr ren eh lesh ny pingyn | This is what he did with the pennies. | |
| V’echey er-mayrn jelhein. | That he had left over on Monday. | |
| T’ow caillt ayns yindys, ven my chree, | You’re lost in wonder, my dear wife, | |
| Shoh ta mee cur-my-ner; | This is what I observe, | |
| Shimmey keayrt ta yn jummal aym’s | Many’s the time my squandering, | |
| Er chur orts shilley jeir. | Has made you shed a tear. | |
| Dy jarroo va mish rouanagh, | Indeed, I was out of control, | |
| As mennick jannoo jeeill; | And frequently doing harm; | |
| Giu ayns ny thie’n-oast iurinagh, | Drinking in the hellish inns, | |
| Va coyrt mee ass my cheeayll. | Was driving me out of my mind. | |
| Eisht yiall eh daue, veih yn laa shen, | Then he promised her, from that day, | |
| Son slan un vlein dy hraa, | For a whole year, | |
| Nagh ragh eh gys yn thie cheddin, | He wouldn’t go to said building, | |
| Cre erbee b’erree da ; | Whatever would befall him, | |
| Ny er-gys thie erbee elley | Or to any other house | |
| Veagh soit seose ec y jouyl. | That would be set up by the devil. | |
| Dy vaarail ayns shen e argid, | To waste his money in, | |
| ’S dy choyrt e annym gioal. | And to give his soul a pledge. | |
| She moghrey doonaght gial souree, | It’s a bright summer Sunday morning, | |
| Ec kione ny bleeaney kiart, | Exactly at the end of the year, | |
| Ghress ad ad-hene, as ny paitchyn, | When he dressed himself, and the children, | |
| Ayns eaddagh aalin smart, | In fine smart clothing, | |
| As hie ad roue magh er walkal, | And they went out for a walk, | |
| Myr oddagh ad dy mie ; | As they’d well be able to, | |
| Kiarail boayl ooashlee y hendeil, | Intending to attend a place of worship, | |
| My darragh ad reesht thie. | Before they would come home. | |
| Paart jeh nyn gloan hie hoshiaght roue, | Some of their children went on ahead of them, | |
| Paart elley cheet nyn yeï ; | Some others coming behind them; | |
| Myr shiartanse dy waaiee aegey, | Like several young hares, | |
| Veagh lheimyraght as cloie. | That’d be jumping and playing. | |
| Tra rosh ad er-gys yn thie-oast, | When they reached the inn, | |
| Ayn boallagh Thom ve giu, | In which Tom used to be drinking, | |
| Hie ad ooilley stiagh, dy akin | They all went in, to see | |
| Ny Briggylyn neeu-feeu. | The worthless wretches. | |
| Va feer vroghe as faasaagagh, kiart | Who were really dirty and beardy, just | |
| Myr daag Thom hene ad roie; | As Thom left them before; | |
| Ceau v’ad yn Doonaght Casherick, | Spending, they were, the holy Sabbath, | |
| Still er y veggan doaie. | Still up to nothing good. | |
| Goaill lane yindys jeh’n chenn iuder, | Really amazed by the old drinker. | |
| Haink stiagh ayns garmad noa, | That entered in a new garment, | |
| Dyllee ad magh, “Hallo Thomas ! | They shouted out, “Hello, Thomas!” | |
| Cre’n gheay t’er dt’eiyrt gys shoh!” | What wind has driven you here!” | |
| Yn ven-oast vooar jiarg, va squareal | The big red landlady, was squaring | |
| Ee-hene mygeayrt er ’laare, | Herself around the floor, | |
| Gra, “Dy jarroo! ta shiu'sh er jeet | Saying, “Indeed! You’ve come to be | |
| Dy ve brod dooinney-seyr ; | A fine gentleman; | |
| Nee shoh yn ven as yn chloan eu ?” | Is this the wife and your children?” | |
| Ny goan shoh dooyrt ee rish : | She said these words to him: | |
| “Dy firrinagh ta shiu poinnee, | “Actually, you are well-built, | |
| Tar-jee dy’n chuille sheese.” | Come to the parlour below.” | |
| As vrie ee jeu, dy meeley shen, | And she asked them, softly then, | |
| “C'red ghoys shiu voym dy iu ?” | “What will you take from me to drink?” | |
| She miolagh v’ee, myr va Satan | Tempting, she was, like Satan was, | |
| Yn traa v’eh, er y clieau; | When he was on the mountain; | |
| Dy slane kiarit, ayns e haigney, | Wholly planned, in her her mind, | |
| Dy hoiagh ribbey roish; | To set a trap for him; | |
| Dy voddagh ish, myr boallagh ee, | If she could, as she used to, | |
| Ny pingyn ’chleayney voish. | Entice the pennies from him. | |
| Pingyn deyr-hoillt yn Ommidan , | The hard earned pennies of the Fool, | |
| V’eh cliaghtey ’chur j'ee roie, | He used to give to her before, | |
| V’eh nish cur gys e ymmyd hene, | He was putting to his own use, | |
| As v’eh er jeet gys doaie. | And he had come to be of worth. | |
| Yn ven-oast ee-hene ghow yindys, | The landlady herself was amazed, | |
| As chion dy choyrt er enn, | And quick to introduce, | |
| Son dy row eh dy mie coamrit | For he was well dressed, | |
| Ayns eaddagh stuitt, as glen. | In neat clothes, and clean. | |
| Dooyrt eh r'ee, “Mish yn toot va giu, | He said to her, “I’m the idiot that was drinking, | |
| As cur dhyts slane ny v’aym ; | And giving you everything I had; | |
| Agh nish, Pingyn yn Ommidan | But now, the Fool’s Pennies | |
| Ta mee dy reayll dooin hene.” | I am keeping them for myself.” | |
| Eisht daag ad ooilley yn thie-oast, | Then they all left the inn, | |
| As shen er-son dy bra; | And that, forever, | |
| As hie ad rhymboo gys y Cheeill, | And they went ahead to the Church, | |
| Nyn Badjeryn dy ghra: | To say their prayers: | |
| Neesht, dy ve freilt ayns tushtey cair, | Also, to be kept in fair knowledge, | |
| Jeh stayd nyn anmeenyn, | Of the state of their souls, | |
| Liorish Saggyrt sheelt as crauee, | By a religious and sober Priest, | |
| Nagh row goaill bine Eh-hene; | That wasn’t taking a drop himself; | |
| Shirveishagh dooie, va loayrt Goo Yee | A kind servant, who was speaking God’s Word | |
| Fo bree yn Spyrryd Noo :— | Bound in the Holy Spirit: - | |
| She BLEIH dy Haggyrt yn Fer ta | It's not much of a Priest, One that | |
| Dy cadjin goaill yn Stoo. | Regularly partakes of the ‘stuff’. | |
| (Cha nel shoh dy ve creckit.) | (This is not to be sold.) | |
| DOOLISH: PRENTIT LIORISH M. A. QUIGGIN, 52, OIRR TWOAIE YN PHURT. | DOUGLAS: PRINTED BY M. A. QUIGGIN, 52, OIRR TWOAIE YN PHURT. | |