| Manx | English | |
|---|---|---|
| THOMAASE MACALLISTER | THOMAS CALLISTER | |
| Loayreyder Dooghyssagh jeh’n Gailck Vanninagh. | A Native Speaker of Manx Gaelic. | |
| Skeeal elley voish cooinaghtyn nyn garrey Chalse Mooar y Craayne. Ayn nee shiu lhaih mychione loayreyder dooghyssagh elley ny Gailck, hooar baase tammylt liauyr er dy henney. Ta shin ooilley lane kianglt bwooise da Chalse son lhied ny skeeallyn as ta treisht ain dy jig tooilley screeunyn veih’n chlou-screeuder echey. | Another story from the memories of Big Chalse Craine. In which you will read about another native speaker of Manx, who died a long time ago. We are all grateful to Chalse for such stories and we hope more letters will come from his typewriter. | |
| HONNICK mee Thomaase son yn chied cheayrt un oie Jesarn tra va mee ayns sheshaght marish kuse dy chaarjyn ayns Purt ny h-Inshey loayrt ry-cheilley ayns y Ghailck as dobberan dy row agh beggan dy Vanninee faagit as y chenn ghlare oc. Smooinnee shin nagh row fer erbee jeu er-mayrn trooid magh yn Ellan gyn enney ain er. | I saw Thomas for the first time on Saturday night when I was in the company of a few friends in Peel talking together in Manx and lamenting that only a very few Manx people were left who knew the old language. We thought that non of them were left throughout the Isalnd that we didn’t know. | |
| Kiart ec y traa shen hie shenn ghooinney shaghey shooyl dy aasagh lesh maidjey ayns e laue as bayrn er e chione. Va fasaag er e eddin as dronnan er e ghreeym. Yeeagh mee er lesh yindys as vrie mee, “Quoi shen?” | Right then, an old man went casually past with a stick in his hand and a cap on his head. He had a beard on his face and a small hump on his back. I looked at him with wonder and I asked “Who’s that?” | |
| “Aw,” dooyrt nane jeh’n cheshaght, “Ta shen Thomaase MacAllister. | “Oh,” said one of the company, That’s Thomas Callister. | |
| T’eh far-enmyssit Thomaase y Perkin er yn oyr dy row eh ny eeasteyr. Agh bee oo jummal dty hraa ersyn.” | He’s nicknamed Thomas the Porpoise because he was a fisherman. But you’ll be wasting your time on him.” | |
| “Cre’n fa? Son ta mee gennaghtyn ayns my chraueyn dy vel ram Gailck echey.” “Foddee dy vel agh cha n’yiarragh eh un ockle rhyt ayns y Ghailck.” | “Why? Because I feel in my bones that he has a lot of Manx.” “Maybe there is, but he wouldn’t say a single word to you in Manx.” | |
| “Nee’ms jannoo my chooid share yn nah cheayrt dy vaikyms eh,” dooyrt mee, “son t’eh jeeaghyn dooys dy ve ny ghooinney ghennal dy-liooar.” | “I’ll do my best the next time I see him,” I said, because he seemed to me to be a cheerful enough man.” | |
| Yn chiaghtyn er-giyn va mee ayns thie oast Corney Kaye (Yn Peveril) raad va shenn gheiney taaghey t’er ve goll dys yn eeastagh ayns nyn aegid. Va kuse veg dy Ghailck ec paart jeu as skeeallyn mie ec feallagh elley myr shen v’eh dy kinjagh feeu dy gholl stiagh dy eaishtagh roo. | The following week I was in the Corney Kaye pub (The Peveril) where old men were frequenting that have gone fishing in their youth. Some of them had a small amount of Manx, and good stories and others so it was always worth going in to listen to them. | |
| Cha row mee foddey ayns shen derrey haink Thomaase hene stiagh. Cha row mee rieau er n’akin eh ayns shen roie as haink eh dy hassoo liorym. | I wasn’t long in there until Thomas himself came in. I had never seen him in there before and he came to stand beside me. | |
| Cha row fys aym edyr dy loayrt rish ayns y Ghailck ny dyn agh fy yerrey dooyrt mee rish ayns Baarle “How are thou doin’ mastha’?” as chelleeragh dooyrt eh “Cha nel mee ro olk noadyr.” | I didn’t know whether to speak to him in Manx or not but finally I said to him in English “How are thou doin’ mister?” and straight away he said “Cha nel mee ro olk noidyr.” (I’m not too bad, at all.” | |
| Lurg shen va’n co-loayrtys ain bunnys ooilley ayns Gailck agh keayrtyn v’eh gra “ta Ghailck bunnys ooilley jarroodit aym’s nish. Cha nel mee er ve taggloo ee son daeed blein.” | After that our conversation was almost all in Manx but sometimes he was saying ‘Manx is almost all forgotten by me now. I haven’t been speaking it for forty years.” | |
| Nish as reesht va fockle Baarlagh snaue stiagh agh dagh cheayrt dy vaik mee eh ny lurg shen va’n chenn ghlare cheet er-ash er e hengey as roish foddey cha row fockle Baarlagh ry-chlashtyn. | Now and again there was an English word creeping in but each time I saw him after that the old language was coming back on his tongue and before long there wasn’t an English word to be heard. | |
| Cha leah as v’eh shickyr dy row mee (as my charrey Mark Braide va bunnys dy kinjagh marym) goaill foays feer ayns y Ghailck, cha loayragh eh glare erbee elley. “Nee ny moddee ’sy traid gynsaghey shiu dy loayrt Baarle agh ta mee laccal cur diu ooilley’n Ghailck t’aym.” | As soon as he was sure that I (and my friend Mark Braide who was almost always with me) taking a real interest in Manx, he wouldn’t speak any other language. “The dogs in the street will teach you to speak English, but I want to give you all the Manx I have.” | |
| Cheau shin ram oieghyn yindyssagh as ymmydoil marish, dy mennick giu bine dy yough ry-cheilley as ny keayrtyn er fastyr aalin goll magh 'sy ghleashtan aym markiaght mygeayrt er y cheer. | We spent many wonderful and useful nights with him, often drinking a drop of drink together and sometimes on a beautiful afternoon going out in my car riding around the country. | |
| Va Thomaase er ve ny eeasteyr ooilley e laghyn goll dys Nherin' as Nalbin, ny Ellanyn Twoaie as sheese ard Hostyn choud as Scarborough. Un laa, tra va’n baatey echey ny lhie rish acker ayns y phurt ec Lerwick, as Thomaase, as un charrey nyn-lomarcan er y voayrd jee, v’ee bwoaillit ec lhong-vree as bunnys giarit ayns daa aym. | Thomas had been a fisherman all his days, going to Ireland and Scotland, The Northern Isles, and down the cost of England, as far as Scarborough. One day, when his boat was lying to anchor in the harbour at Lerwick, and Thomas, and only one friend where onboard her, she was struck by a steamship and almost cut in two. | |
| Hie yn baatey sheese dy tappee as cha row traa ec Thomaase as e charrey dy hauail veg agh nyn mea. Va nyn eaddagh, nyn argid, dy chooilley nhee, caillt oc. | The boat went down quickly and Thomas and his friend didn’t have time to save anything except their lives. They lost their clothing, their money, everything. | |
| Ny-yeih v’eh er troailt dy mean[1] mygeayrt ny Ellanyn Gaelgagh as Goaldagh cha row agh beggan troailtys jeant echey er e Ellan hene. | Though he had travelled ??? around the British and Irish Isles, he had only done a very little bit of travel in the Island itself. | |
|
[1] dy mean] meaning obscure
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| S’cooin lhiam cur lhiams eh voish Purt ny h-Inshey dys Skyll Michal son yn chied keayrt ayns e vea as v’eh kiare feed as shiaght bleeaney dy eash ec yn traa shen. Ren eh coontey eh dy ve “Balley beg nice ny-yeih,” agh foddee va’n Thie Oast Mitre balley beg ny share! | I remember taking him from Peel to Kirk Michael for the first time in his life and he was eighty-seven years of age at that time. He considered it to be “A nice little town though,” but maybe the Mitre pub was a better little settlement!” | |
| Laa elley veeit mee rish my charrey Mark as hrog shin seose Harry Boddagh as hie shin dy Purt ny h-Inshey as ayns shen hooar shin Thomaase. Hie shin ’naght Claddagh Hulby dys Rhumsaa as eisht dys Laksaa dy chur shilley er y Wheeyl Vooar. | Another day, I met my friend Mark and we picked Harry Boyde up and we went to Peel and there we found Thomas. We went the Sulby Claddagh way to Ramsey and then to Laxey to see the Big Wheel. | |
| Va yindys mooar oc ec yn Wheeyl Vooar as dooyrt Harry, “Bee ny guillyn ec y Traid Wooar (shen v’ad genmys yn straid Lhane) ennagh tra inshyms daue mychione shoh.” Va’n caslys shoh goit er y laa shen tra hie shin dy ‘luighey nyn veddanyn’ agh cha row Harry giu agh “stoo total”. | They were amazed by the Big Wheel and Harry said, “The boys will be at the Big Street (That’s what they called the Lhane street, sometime I will tell them about this.) This picture was takin on that day when we went to ‘wet our whistles’ but Harry was only dinking ‘Total stuff’ (non-alcoholic stuff). | |
| (Harry Boddagh, Thomaase hene as Markys cheumooie jeh’n thie oast) | (Harry Boyde, Thomas himself and Mark outside the pub) | |
| Vrie mee jeh Thomaase un oie row eh credjal ayns ferrishyn[2] as dooyrt eh dy row eh er n’akin feedyn jeu ayns e hraa. Va palchey jeu goll tra v’eh aeg, dooyrt eh, agh cha row eh er n’akin fer erbee jeu son bleeantyn! | I asked Thomas one night if was (believing in) fairies and he said that he had seen scores of them in his time. There were plenty of them going (around) when he was young, he said, but he hadn’t seen a single one of them for years! | |
|
[2] row eh credjal ayns ferrishyn] ‘did he believe in fairies’ — the words
[credjal ayns] are missing in the original.
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| “Insh dou mysh yn cheayrt s’jerree dy vaik oo fer jeu,” dooyrt mee. “Well,” dreggyr eh, “Heose ayns Glion Russin v'eh un moghrey Jedoonee. Vel enney ayd er y giat shen ta tessyn y raad 'sy Ghlion?” Dooyrt mee dy row enney aym er giat tessyn y raad ayns shen. | “Tell me about the last time you saw one of them,” I said. “Well,” he answered, “Up in Glen Rushen it was, one morning. Do you know that gate that’s across the road in the glen?” I said that I knew the gate across the road there. | |
| “Well, va nane jeu ny hoie er mullagh y yiat as tra honnick mee eh va mee son goll erash son cha row mee ro hickyr jeh agh dyllee eh rhym, ‘Tar royd, Homaase C’raad t’ou goll edyr? Tar royd as foshil yn giat son ta mee laccal markiaght er.” | “Well, one of them was sitting on top of the gate and when I saw him I was for going back because I wasn’t too sure of it, but he shouted to me, “Come on, Thomas, Where are you going, at all? Come on and open the gate because I want to ride on it.” | |
| Well, fakin dy row enney echey orrym as Gailck vie echey hie mee roym as doshil mee yn giat. Hie mee ny hrooid as hyndaa mee dy ghooney eh as dooyrt eh-hene rhym, “Trooid nish, Homaase. Cha nel oo goll foast. Foshil eh reesht son ta mee laccal markiaght elley.” | Well, seeing that he knew me and he had good Manx I went and I opened the gate. I went through it and I turned to close it and he said to me, “Come now, Thomas. You’re not going yet. Open it again because I want another ride.” | |
| “Va mee goaill aggle dy obbal eh son cha row rieau fys eu cre’n jeeal yinnagh yn lhied. Myr shen, doshil mee yn giat dy lhean reesht as cha leah as v’eh bunnys jeiht, v’eh laccal ny smoo. Fy-yerrey beign dou ginsh da dy row mee foast goll as cha row eh feer wooiagh. | “I was afraid to refuse him because you never knew what damage the like would do. So, I opened the gate wide again and as soon as it was almost shut, he was wanting more. Finally I had to tell him that I was still going and he wasn’t very pleased. | |
| Veign er ve ayns shen derrey nish dy chur da ooilley ny markiaghtyn v’eh laccal.” | I would have been there until now to give him all the rides he was wanting.” | |
| “Moghrey Jedoonee va shen, dooyrt oo?” vrie mee. | “Sunday morning that was, you said?” I asked. | |
| “Va.” | “Yes.” | |
| “Beign dhyt er ve braew scoorit oie Jesarn,” dooyrt mee. | “You must have been pretty drunk on Saturday night,” I said. | |
| “Cha row,” dooyrt eh lesh yn red s’niessey dys corree ayns e choraa ren mee rieau clashtyn voish, “S’cooin lhiam feer vie nagh row mee ersooyl veih’n valley yn oie Jesarn shen.” | “No,” he said with the closest thing to anger in his voice I ever heard from him, “I remember very well that I wasn’t away from the home that Saturday night.” | |
| Un astyr elley hug Mark as mee-hene lhien eh dys Skyll Michal as hie shin stiagh ayns y Vitre son bine dy yough. | One other afternoon Mark and I brought him with us to Kirk Michael and we went into the Mitre for a drop of drink. | |
| Va earroo mie dy leih ayn as ga nagh row nane jeu ayns aght erbee flaaoil ayns y Ghailck, va bunnys dy chooilley unnane fockley magh beggan dy Ghailck rooin as va Thomaase jannoo ansoor reue[3]. | There was a good number of people and although not one of them were in any way fluent in Manx, almost all of them were announcing a little Manx to us and Thomas was making an answer to them. | |
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[3] reue] roo
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| V’eshyn as adsyn ooilley goaill taitnys mooar. Va shen bunnys daeed blein er dy henney as va ram fockleyn Ghailckagh goll er y cheer ayns ny laghyn shen. | He and they were all having a great time. That was almost forty years ago and there many Manx words around in the countryside in those days. | |
| Va mee er chlashtyn dy row Thomaase ayns ny shenn laghyn cummit ayns ard scansh dy yiarrey yn lhuss dy chur lesh aigh vie er yn eeastagh as un oie dinsh mee da dy row mee er chlashtyn shen my-e-chione as myrgeddyn dy row mee goll magh dy eeastagh laa ny vairagh. | I was hearing that in the old days Thomas was held in high regard for cutting the herb to bring good luck on the the fishing and one night I told him that I had heard that about him and also that I was going out fishing the next day. | |
| Haghyr shen oie Jesarn as vrie Thomaase, “Vel shiu goll magh eeastagh er y Doonaght?” | That happened on Saturday night and Thomas asked, “Are you going out fishing on the Sabbath?” | |
| “Och,” dooyrt mee, “Cha nel shin goll magh dy chosney argid. Ta shin goll magh son y gamman, aghterbee, ta’n Doonaght yn caa share t’ain son ta shin gobbraghey car y chiaghtin. Jean giarrey yn lhuss er nyn son, my sailt.” | “Oh”, I said, “We aren’t going out to earn money. We go out for the fun, anyway, the Sabbath is the best opportunity we have because we work during the week. Cut the herb for us, please.” | |
| “Cre’n traa ta shiu goll magh?” denee eh. “Lieh oor lurg hoght er y chlag.” “Cha beem’s er chosh ec yn traa shen.” “Fod oo ginsh dou red ennagh foddym giarrrey mee hene?” | “What time are you going out?” I asked him “Half-past eight,” “I won’t be up at that time.” Can you tell me something I can cut myself?” | |
| “Vel enney ayd er yn aase noa bog ta cheet er yn dress smeyr dagh vlein?” “Ta.” “Giare shiu meer jeh shen agh bee shickyr nagh vaikys peiagh erbee oo jannoo eh” dooyrt eh. | “Do you know the new soft growth that comes upon the blackberry briar every year?” “Yes.” “Cut a piece off that but bee sure that no one sees you do it” he said. | |
| Moghrey’n Doonaght va mee shooyl sheese yn raad ta goll dys yn traie marish daa charrey as ren mee leshtal croobagh dy row kiangley my vraag er ny veaysley. | On the Morning of the Sabbath (Sunday) I was walking down the way that goes to the beach with two friends and I made a lame excuse my shoe lace was loose. | |
| Yiare mee meer veih’n dress smeyr as va mee cur eh ayns my phoagey agh va mee ro anmagh. Honnick nane jeh ny fir elley mee. | I cut a piece from the blackberry briar and I was putting it in my bag, but I was too late. One of the others saw me. | |
| “C'red ta’n boghtynid shen t’ou cur ayns dty phoagey?" dooyrt eh. | “What’s that rubbish you’re putting in your bag? He said. | |
| “Cha row mee cur veg ayns my phoagey, “dooyrt mee, ginsh y vreag vooar. Breagyn fuiltagh,” dooyrt eh, “Ren mee fakin oo.” | “I wasn’t putting anything in my bag,” I said, telling a big lie. “Bloody lies,” he said, “I saw you.” | |
| “T’ou fakin reddyn nagh vel ayn,” dooyrt mee. “Cha nel mee. Honnick mee oo cur dress smeyr ayns dty phoagey.” | “You’re seeing things that don’t exist,” I said. “I’m not. I saw you put a blackberry bramble in your bag.” | |
| Fy-yerrey lhunn shin y vaatey as tra va shin foddey dy-liooar ersooyl veih’n traie, hug shin y greie-bree harrish yn “jerrey moandagh” as deab shin dy chur urree goll agh cha ragh ee. | Eventually, we launched the boat and when we were far enough away from the beach, we the put the engine over the ‘blunt end’ and we attempted to make it go, but it wouldn’t go. | |
| Deab shin son lieh oor derrey va ny roihaghyn ain bunnys brisht. Cha dod shin feddyn veg jannoo er y ghreie as fy-yerrey, dooyrt nane jeh’n skimmee (eshyn ren fakin mish cur yn dress smeyr ayns my phoagey v'eh), “Ta fys aym c’red ta jannoo er. She’n dress smeyr fuiltagh shen ny[4] dug Chalse Mooar ayns e phoagey. Shen ta jannoo er.” | We tried (attempted) for half an hour until our arms were almost broken. We couldn’t find anything wrong with the machine, and finally, one of the crew (it was he who saw me put the blackberry briar in my pocket) said, “I know what’s wrong with it. It’s that bloody blackberry briar that Big Chalse put in his pocket. That’s what’s wrong with it.” | |
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[4] ny] ‘that which’ — not required here.
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| Cooinaghtyn dy row Thomaase er n’insh dou dyn dy lhiggey da peiagh erbee fakin mee giarrey yn dress smeyr dooyrt mee, “Yee Ooilley niartal! Ta mee credjal dy vel oo kiart.” Hug mee my laue ayns my phoagey as hayrn mee yn dress smeyr magh ass as cheau mee eh ersooyl. | Remembering that Thomas had told me not to let anyone see mee cutting the blackberry briar I said “God almighty! I believe you are right.” I put my hand in my bag and I pulled the blackberry briar out of it and I threw it away. | |
| Yn nah eab ghow yn greie bree toshiaght as roie eh dy slanjeant son queig minnidyn as eisht scuirr eh reesht “Hie eh fo raad reesht” (myr boallagh Juan y Kreen gra) gyn boirey erbee agh cha ragh eh ny smoo na queig minnidyn. | The next attempt, the engine started and it ran perfectly for five minutes and then it stopped again, “It went underway again” (as John Kneen used to say) no bother at all, but it wouldn’t go more than five minutes. | |
| Foast cha dod shin feddyn red erbee jannoo er. Goghe eh toshiaght dy roie aasagh dy liooar agh lurg queig minnidyn veagh eh er ny scuirr reesht. | Yet we couldn’t find anything wrong with it. It would start to run easy enough, but after five minutes it would be stopped again. | |
| Fy yerrey dooyrt yn fer ren fakin mee cur yn dress smeyr ayns my phoagey, “Vel arragh jeh'n dress smeyr fuiltagh shen faagit ayns dty phoagey?” | Finally, the one who saw me put the blackberry briar in my bag said, “Is any more of that bloody blackberry briar left in your bag?” | |
| Hug mee my laue stiagh as hooar mee un ghuillag va raipit jeh tra tayrn mee y clane vanglane ass. Cheau mee shen harrish lhiattee y vaatey. Chelleeragh ghow yn greie bree toshiagh as veagh eh er ve roie foast mannagh row shin er chur er dy scuirr! | I put my hand in and I found one leaf that was ripped off it when I pulled the whole branch out. I threw that over the side of the boat. Straight away the engine started and it would have been still if we hadn’t made it stop! | |
| Ta cooinaghtyn feer chenjal aym jeh Thomaase. Va Gailck yindyssagh echey as she chymmey mooar eh nagh row enney ny share er ec ny studeyryn Gailckagh foddey ny s’leah na ve[5] son va mooarane dy ve er n’ynsaghey voish. Shee dy row marish. | I have very kind memories of Thomas. He had wonderful Manx and it is a great pity that the students of Manx didn’t know him better far sooner than it was because there was a lot to be learnt from him. Peace be with him. | |
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[5] ve] v’eh
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| CHALSE MOOAR JUAN ROBIN. | BIG CHALSE JUAN ROBIN. | |