Manx | English | |
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Ta’n emshyr ain quaagh car-ny-bleeaney | Our weather is strange throughout the year, | |
Fud ooilley ny boiraghyn t’ayn | Amongst all the worries that there are, | |
Anvennick ta dooiney feer chreeney | Rarely does a very wise man, | |
Ny vud ain seose troggal e chione. | Amongst us raise up his head. | |
Cha n’yrrys dou geddyn eh sneiagh | It’s no wonder to me, to find it vexing, | |
My laghyn dy cheau ad cha moal | To spend my days to spend so poorly, | |
Meeiteil wheesh dy reddyn neu-ghoaieagh | Meeting so many improper things, | |
Myr sleih ass traa cooie cheet dyn theihll. | Like anachronistic people coming into the world. | |
Rou traa da’n vyn Vooinjyr cheet marin | Was there time for the tiny people to come with us, | |
As joinal dy hroggal bardoon | And joining to raise a lament, | |
Tra honnick ad torcan frioagh Vannin | When they saw the Mannin(an)’s heather smoke, | |
Goll jiarg harrish Rollick-y-dhoon. | Going red over the Dhoon graveyard. | |
Thousaneyn jeh’n Vooinjyr hree lurgagh | Thousands of the three legged people, | |
Va gyllagh lesh dobberan gheyre | Were shouting with harsh mourning, | |
Dy rou Mannin ersooyi lesh yn liargagh | That Mann(anan) was going downhill, | |
As ooilley shenn eiraght Vac Leaire. | And all of Mac Lear’s ancient legacy. | |
Ta’n geurey feoayr fluiagh v’ayn my-leeaney | The cold wet winter there was this year, | |
Rish boghtyn er ghellae dy croie | Has dealt hard with the poor, | |
Dy beagh nauyn da shen Vannin gaas Creeney | If Old Mannin happened to grow wise | |
Te dy liooar dy chur Keeayl da ny gwoiee. | It’s enough to give sense to the geese.[1] | |
[1] According to Livy, geese warned the Romans of the approaching Gaulish army before the sacking of Rome in 387BC.
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Yn aile va cha jesh ec sleih boghtey | The poor people’s fire that was so nice, | |
Er Greebey er Sniauil as Barule, | On Greeba, on Snaefell and Barrrule, | |
Te nish er y ghrunt er ny lostey | Is now burning on the ground, | |
Ayns bodjallyn jaagh goll ersooyl. | Gowing away in clouds of smoke. | |
Ta’n atchin yn frioghe as ny shuinyn | The gorse, the heather and the rushes, | |
Goll naardey voish harr er gys heear | Are being consumed from the East to the West, | |
Yn Ghailk as Phynodaree, Rushen, | The Manx Language, and Phynodderee of Rushen, | |
Scoan yiou ad boayl fastee sy cheer. | Will hardly find shelter in the country. | |
Ny earrooyn mooarey dy eeanlee | The great number of birds that | |
Va coagey er Braaid ny frioghane | Were croaking on the palteau of the blaeberries, | |
Cha bee fastee ny smoo cour ny skianee? | Won’t there be shelter for winged things any more? | |
Ny thammag dy ollagh Boggane. | Or a bush to hide a Buggane. | |
Tra va ny fadanee er jymsagh | When the bumpkins had gathered, | |
Va’n ’aer er lheeiney lesh Kiauel | The sky had filled with music, | |
Bardoonys a dobberan hrimshagh | Mournful singing of sad mourning, | |
Voish scauryn How Rushen gys Sniauil. | From the chasms of Rushen Howe to Snaefell. | |
Yn chenn Tarroo ushtey as yn Glashjan | The old Water-Bull and the Glashtan, | |
Cha bee fastee ny chour oc ny smoo | There won’t be shelter any more for them, | |
Row rieau Iheid y’n eam er ny chlastyn | Was such a call ever heard, | |
Near as honniek ad shenn Pherick Noo . | Since they saw old Saint Patrick. | |
Lesh geayaghyn, lesh dewilys as sterrym. | With winds, with cruelty and storm. | |
Smooar dy grogh niaghtyn tain dinsh | How great the bad news we have to tell, | |
Eer shenn chabbil vaidjry Phurt Erin, | Even the old wooden horses of Port Erin, | |
Tad gyllagh yn meillley ain reesht. | They’re calling our mheilley again. | |
Ta nyn greeaghyn myr brishey ayns peeshyn | Our hearts are as if breaking in pieces, | |
Ec whilleen’s ta goll ass nyn geeayl | At so many who are leaving their senses, | |
Ooilley laadit fo feeaghyn as Keeshyn, | All burdened with fees and taxes, | |
As geeck ny thousaneyn son geayl. | And paying thousands for coal. | |
Foddee staamid shenn Vannin nish geeaghyn | The stateliness of Old Mann(anan) can now show, | |
As gynsaghey creenaght nyn saie | And teach our fill of wisdom, | |
Yn aile ain te losht er ny sleityn | Our fire, it is burnt on the mountains, | |
As yn argid goll lesh y traie. | And the silver going towards the shore. | |
My chronnee shiyn dellal cha barbagh | If we discerned such barbaric dealing, | |
Rish boghtyn son laghyn foe'n ghrian | Towards poor folk for days under the sun, | |
Ah treih son yn Vooinjyr hree lurgagh | Alas for the three-legged people, | |
C’raad cheauys earishyn beayn. | Where will (they) spend the ages of eternity? | |
Ta laa Mooar yn vargee molteyragh | The great day of the decietful fair, | |
Ro-vennick cur sneih er nyn gree | Too often vexes our hearts, | |
Tan Manninagh hene laa-ny-vairagh | The Manxman himself, the following day, | |
Cha creeney as dooinney erbee. | Is as wise as any man. |