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THE CROW AND THE PITCHER
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YN FANNAG AS YN CRUISHTIN.
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There was a crow ready to die with thirst. She flew to a pitcher which she saw at a distance from her.
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Va fannag dy row, aarloo dy gheddyn baase son paays, detyl ee gys saagh-ushtey honnick ee tammylt roïe.
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When she came she found water in it indeed, bnt so near the bottom that she could not reach it with all her stooping and stretching.
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Tra haink ee hooar ee ushtey ayn dy jarroo, agh cha faggys da’n thoin nagh voddagh ee y roshtyn lesh ooilley yn croymmey eck as sheeyney.
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Then she sought to throw the vessel over that she might at least get a little drop to drink.
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Eisht hirr ee dy hilgey harrish yn saagh, dy voddagh ee ec y chooid sloo bine beg y gheddyn.
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But her strength was not enough for this.
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Agh cha row e niart dy liooar son shoh.
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At last she saw some pebbles near at hand.
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Ec y jerrey ren ee claghyn-cruinn y akin er-gerrey dy laue.
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She cast them one by one into the vessel, until little by little the water rose to the top of the pitcher, and she drank in plenty.
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Cheau ee ad nane lurg nane stiagh ayns y saagh er derrey as ny veggan as ny veggan dirree yn ushtey dys mullagh yn chruishtin as diu ee dy palchey.
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MORAL.
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BUNKEEAYL.
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Many a thing that cannot be done by strength or by the common method may be brought about by new and unaccustomed means.
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Shimmey red nagh vod ve jeant lesh niart, ny liorish yn aght cadjin oddys ve currit lesh mygeayrt liorish saaseyn noa as neu-oayllagh.
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