Manx Melodies Manx Melodies By Josephine Kermode (Cushag) London John Long, Limited 12, 13 & 14 Norris Street, Haymarket 1922 To the Lady Raglan A Fairy Greeting " Themselves" upon the mountains, " Themselves" that haunt the plain, That sparkle through the fountains And laugh among the rain ; Greeting, greeting, Singing in the rain, Laughing in the mountains Greet you once again. Your Druid Lands akin to them With them you have a part That send a song to win to them A kindly Irish heart ; Singi • , singing, Singing through the ram And finding you akin to them Would greet you once again. I J.K. Claghbane Ramsey, Isle of Man 1911 498072 Contents PAGE THEM OUL' TIMES . • 13 THE GABLE OF THE HOUSE • 15 KEBEG .... • 17 INHERITANCE . • 19 OIE-VIE .... . 20 THE MOUNTAIN MAID . 22 CALLING OF THE NAME . • 23 WANS FROM UP • 25 TRAA-DY-LIOOAR • V BONS .... • 29 HIGH TIDE • 32 KATE COWLE • 34 th' oul' MARE • 30 RHULLIC NY QUAKERYN ■ 38 BEULAH . . 40 COUNTRY COURTSHIP • 4i II 12 CONTENTS PAGE " INASMUCH " . 43 THE FAIRY DOG . 45 LITTLE BOY BEG 4» THE KING'S VISIT 50 MOUNTAIN AND MOON 53 PASSING OF THE FAYRIES 54 " GREAT STORE " . 56 BOBBY 58 THE CHURCH BRINGS US HOME 60 CURLEWS .... 62 HILL OF THE RISING DAY 67 JOHN THE PRIEST . 69 THE LIL OUL' GHOS' 72 IN GLEN ALDYN 76 THE BABE OF EAREY CUSHLIN • 79 THE LITTLE EVERIN' . 89 GLOSSARY .... • 9i Manx Melodies THEM OUL' TIMES r "pHEM was the times, the fine oul' times When the Manx was goin' a spakin' ; In the pulphit an' all, it was goin' for all At the like of the oul' Archdacon. Them was the times, th' oul'-fashioned times When the flax would be goin' a spinnin'; An' the busy the queels were whistling roun' As quick as the talk of the women. Them was the times, the prosperous times When no one was thinkin' of savin's; But heavin' the brooillagh over the quay To show there was lashin's an' lavin's. Them was the times, the fine oul' times When the weaver was bringin' the Newses, An' colloguin' the bargain urrov the wife While the masthar was givin' his viewses. 13 14 MANX MELODIES Them was the times, the coortin' times When the buoys to the dhure were stealin'; An' the busy the dogs were waggin' their tails To show there was no ill-feelin'. Them was the times, the fine oul' times When the childher were goin' a rarin' On porridge an' jough, an' bonnags an' broth An' suppin' on priddhas an' herrin'. THE GABLE OF THE HOUSE n THE GABLE OF THE HOUSE "\X7HAT was there doin' on her? Aw dade, it's hard to say. She wasn' for complainin' But goin' — night an' day. Aw, well; there's no wan at me now To make the bed or milk the cow ! The cough was subjec' to her, Aw teerin', teerin' still; She wore it out upon her feet Yon time that I was ill. Aw, well; I'm sick enough for all; But she's not hearin' when I call. The times I'd not be sleepin' She'd up an' have a light, An' do a bit of readin' — But failin' in her sight. Aw, well; I'm lyin' lonely now, An' who's to go an' milk the cow ? 16 MANX MELODIES Ay! Gcin' goin' still, Nor never warmed a cheer, It's like she'll tire of sittin" quite, The way she'll be up theer, Like weariir out her Sunday gown An' longin' still for us that's down. They're tellin' me to rise, Me clo'es is on the chiss, Aw, well, I havn' got no heart, An' that's the way it iss ! What use of me above the groun' ! The gable of the house is down! KEBEG 17 KEBEG A LONAN LEGEND j^EBEG, kebeg, kebeg! O, why do you call kebeg? The calves are home and the lambs in fold, The colt is brought from the upland wold, The childher in from the frosty cold — Then why do you call kebeg ? Kebeg, kebeg, kebeg! She used to call kebeg. She went for the calves on a summer night, She followed them over the streamlet bright, Along the valley and over the height We heard her call kebeg. Kebeg, kebeg, kebeg! The fairies called kebeg. From the dreary pool in the tangled dell, The fathomless pool of the Nikkesen's well, They called with the voice of a silver bell, " Come here, come here, kebeg." B i8 MANX MELODIES Kebeg, kebeg, kebeg! We heard them call kebeg. From Mollagh Oure the mist came down And shut the glen from all aroun', And faint and fainter came the soun', Kebeg, kebeg, kebeg! That's why I call kebeg, And I'm callin' still kebeg. From Nikkesen's pool she'll chance to hear. And joy to know her mother's near So night by night and year by year I'm calling still kebeg. INHERITANCE 19 INHERITANCE HP HE lands that should have come to him Were gone with stock and store. They dug a little grave for him, What was he wantin' more. The trees that should have grown for him Had vanished long before. They carved a little chiss for him, What was he wantin' more. The gown his mother worked for him, Put ready in the drawer, Was doin' a little shroud for him, What was he wantin' more. The Sign of his Inheritance Upon his brow he bore, And that was all there was for him, What was he wantin' more. jq MANX MELODIES OIE-VIE IE-VIE, oie-vie, ma chree, My villish veen, oie-vie! The boats are tossing at the quay, The tide is rising high. Oie-vie ! I go till break of day, To glean for you, ma chree, Where silv'ry shoals of sceddan play, The Harvest of the Sea. While I'm away, ma chree, And you are lapped in sleep, There's One will watch for you and me, Whose Path is on the deep. Fear not the rising wind, Oie-vie, oie-vie, ma chree; For He will have us in His Mind, Who stilled the raging sea. OIE-VIE 21 Fear not the dark'ning night, For in His Hand we lie, Who steers us through from dark to light Oie-vie, ma veen, oie-vie ! The day will break, ma chree, And home my heart will fly; To see you on the sunlit quay — Till then, ma veen, oie-vie! Oie-vie ! 22 MANX MELODIES THE MOUNTAIN MAID T HEARD the lark at break of day, I heard the echoes ring; A lonely maid, and blithe as they — What could I do but sing? But neither lark nor echoes stopped To listen to my song, And sometimes into silence dropped — What could I do but long? And then one stepping lightly past Called me his singing dove; With him to please, the days sped fast- What could I do but love? And then! He wearied of my song And lightly passed me by. So, left alone to love and long — What could I do but die? CALLING OF THE NAME 23 CALLING OF THE NAME WAS down alone in the Moaney, Nobody else was near, When my name was goin' a'callin' Low an' sof an' clear. None was I seein' aroun' me, Never a face of clay; An' my name was goin' a'callin', Jus' at the close of day. The childher it's like were callin', Wantin' you they'd be For a twilight play in the haggart Under the tramman tree. None of the childher was near me, Gone to their homes they were; An' my name was goin' a'callin' Over the Moaney there. Daddy it's like was callin' Wantin' your help awhile, Dhrivin' the sheep he would be Over beyond the stile. 24 MANX MELODIES Daddy was gone to the mountain, I saw him against the sky, An' my name was goin' a'callin' Like a whisper passin' by. There's Them that's sometimes callin' Low in th' everin' hour, An' if you give Them answer They have you in their power. A voice when the night is fallm', A whisper on the air, An' seekin' to draw you to them Down in the Moaney there. Mammy, the voice a'callin', Callin' my name to me, Was his that long is lying Cold in the cruel sea. You'll lave Good-bye with my Daddy An' lay me on my bed — Chile veen, chile veen, what ails thee I answered it, she said. WANS FROM UP 25 WANS FROM UP " TV/T OTHER," she said, " when you're not by, There's lil wans talkin' to me, They're showin' me pictures out in the sky, Where the sun sets over the sea. Will I lave a piece of my supper," she said, " An' a dhrop of milk in the cup? D'you think it's Fayries thass in? " she said. — I'm thinkin' 'twas Wans from Up. " Mother," she said, " when the nights is long There's lil wans comin' to me. They're bringin' a harp an' makin' a song, An' houlin' a light to see. I'll lave a bit of my supper," she said, " An' a tase of milk in the cup; I'm thinkin' it's Fayries thass in," she said, — But I knew it was Wans from Up. " Mother," she said, " my head is sore, An' the lil wans is callin' me; They say there's a boat waitin' down at the shore To take me a sail on the sea. 26 MANX MELODIES Keep by a piece of my supper," she said, " An' lave some milk in the cup; I'll go with the Fayries a bit," she said. — An' she went to the Wans from Up. TRAA-DY-LIOOAR 27 TRAA-DY-LIOUAR (TIME ENOUGH) nr* HERE'S a wickad little falla that goes among us here, An' the wickadness thass at him is tellin' far an' near; He's prowlin' in the haggart an' in at every dhure, An' coaxin' an' persuadin', — an' his name is Traa- dy-Liooar. The house is all through others, the childher's late for school, The man is spendin' all his time in lookin' for a tool, The wumman's tired thremendjus with clearin' up the flure, An' the wan that's doin' all the jeel is wickad Traa-dy-Liooar. The fields is full of cushag, the gates is darned with gorse, You'll hardly see the harness for the mire upon the horse; The cows is shoutin' shockin', an' puzzlin' them for sure, Is the waitin' doin' on them at that tejus Traa- dy-Liooar. 28 MANX MELODIES There's a power of foes within us, and enemies without, But the wan that houls the candle is that little lazy- lout; So just you take an' scutch him, an' put him to the dhure, An' navar let him in again, that tejus Traa- dy-Liooar. BONS 29 BONS TT'LL be in the teens of years I'm livin' here alone, An' the house is bare at me too, like a ness when the birds is flown; But the days is lonelier far pas' what it is in the night, For then I'm stirrin' the bons till the house is full of light. And then I'm seein' the lumpers all playin' about on the flure, With pussy-bogh sthretchin' her back, and Daa comin' in on the dhure; An' a long little family at us, Henery, John, an' Lil, An' wan that was took at the Angels, an' Miriam Maud, an' Bill. 30 MANX MELODIES Henery went for a sailor, an' the ship went down in the night, But I'm seein' him readin' his book when the bons is burnin' bright; An' I'm feelin' me fut for the cradle, an' the tear dhroppin' down from the eye, For the wan that was took at the Angels when 1 hadn't no time to cry. Johnny was studdy uncommon, an' terrible fon' of the Ian', An' helpin' Daa with the bases an' givin' us all a han'; Billy an' him went foreign — I h'ard they were doin' well, But, the name of the place they was to, is beatin' all to tell. The gels is married on farmers, an' bringin' a boy or a chile For to see th' oul' granny an' all, an' be rared at me here for a while; But I'm all as well by myself, for then in the mids of the night I can stir up the bons on the chiollagh till the house is full of light. BONS 31 An' I sit with a fut on the cradle till the blaze is dyin' down, An' the childher goin' a-mixin' with the shaddas creepenin' roun'; I'm watchin' wan an' another, an' always her that was took, An' Daa comin' in on the dhure, an' Henery readin' his book. 32 MANX MELODIES HIGH TIDE HP HE quare conthraptions there would be at times When I was goin' awakin' in the night. I'd see a shadder slippin' down the stairs Behind a drowsy blink of candle-light. Scritch-scratch among the cinders in the grate, An' then, the light come leapin' through the floor All bars an' dazzlin' lines across the room Between the booards and where the rug was tore. An' then a sudden scutch of salty air, An' footsteps stoppin' at the door below, While all the house was rockin' with the noise Of waves an' shingle teerin' to an' fro. " An well! So long! " I'd hear my father say, An' then, " So long," goin' callin' by the crew, An' then — it's like my mother'd give a sigh, But I was fast asleep before I knew. HIGH TIDE 33 An' still I'm wakin' when the tide is high, An' still the breeze comes through the clappin' door. I hear " So long " goin' echoin' down the street, The waves an' shingle teerin' on the shore. An' for I'm oul\ an' wore, an' full of years, My sleep once broke will not come back to me. But all the wakin' hours are not too long To pray for them that's out upon the sea. 34 MANX MELODIES KATE COWLE /~* RIP me savadge, Miss Geargie, ^"^ An' heis me up in bed, An' you can be radin' them texes The while I reddy me head. Can ye see me hanksher, Miss Geargie ? In the bed it's like it's los'. Aw well! the couth of the winter! Me legs is like sticks of fros'. An' the rots is scraerpin', scraerpin' ! Aw, it's time poor Kate was took — No, no, I'll not have no firin' For I cannot suffer the smook. An' well — Are ye theer, Miss Geargie? I was dhramin' a dhrame in the night, When the win's took rest from their noisin' An' the say was middlin' quite. An' the Lord Himself come down An' stud beside the bed, An' with thremblin' fear I heard Him speak " Come urrov theer," He said. KATE COWLE 35 " Come urrov theer, Kate Cowle," He said. " An' go you up on high, For such as you that's oul' and blind There's mansions in the sky." An' through the roof an' through the clouds Like sthrailin' through a ford, An' singin' Glo — ry, Glo — ry, while The waves around us roared. An' Glo — ry, Glo — ry, still we sang Up to the great White Throne — When suddenly the Light went out An' I was here alone ! Are ye plentiful in pins, Miss Geargie, Them laps for me head is tore; Well, good everin' — You'll be rewahded; An' plaze pull to the door. An' Glo — ry for ever Glo — ry An' a Light for the blind to see — An' a lil bit of pudden, Miss Geargie, If Mayry will spare it for me. 36 MANX MELODIES TH' OUL' MARE CHE'S rough, an' she's tough urrov massy, An' she's gettin' up in years; An' her knees is middlin' onaisy, An' a piece urrov wan of her ears; An' wan of her eyes is blinded, An' th' other is not for seein', But the run of her tees she'll be gettin' As long as she has her bein'. An' there's wan or two tees at her still, For she's terrible handy to nip, An' up with her heels in a minute If she hears you shakin' the whip. An' part with her, is it? No never! As long as I'm in to be keerin', An' goin' perhaps to them hawkers, An' sthrangers be raggin' an' teerin' ! TH' OUL' MARE 37 Aw no! On this farm she was rarin', An' here she may end her days — Come urrov that y' oul' schamer, Be off now, an' just go your ways! 38 MANX MELODIES RHULLIC NY QUAKERYN VXT'HAT brings you over the hill to-night? What makes you look so treih ? Are you hearing soun's in the win' to-night? Or seeing what we can't spy? You're snug an' warm down here, my son, In your thatch-house by the shore. But there's wan lyin' out in the storm, my son, That I think on more an' more. Will I take you home to the hill, to-night? Or will you stop till morn? You shall sleep in the children's bed to-night, And take the road at dawn. I would gladly stop down here, my son, An' with the childher bide; But there's wan lyin' out on the hill, my son. Is callin' me to his side. As I came over the hill to-night His voice spoke in mine ear — " Are thou coming soon, my widowed wife, We are snugly housed up here." RHULLIC NY QUAKERYN 39 " The turf grows over our heads, my wife, The gorse is black and charred; But we lie as warm up here, my wife, As any in Maughold Churchyard." So it's time I was takin' the road, my son, But bide you where you be; It's a road I must travel alone, my son, An' he will be waiting for me. But mind you now what I say to-night — When you find my senseless clay : You'll take me home to the hill that night, To the grave beside the way. You'll lay me there in the gorse, my son, Where he's waiting for me still; I could not rest in my churchyard grave An' him lyin' out on the hill. 4 o MANX MELODIES BEULAH '"T^ HE sun is rose an' fell on me This nearly ninety years, While I have seen my share of joy An' shed a sight of tears. An' now I'm in my eighty-nine An' goin' down the hill, I'm thinkin' tears have passed me by But joys are with me still. I'm takin' still my daily walk Along the leafy Jane, An' by the low white pillar sit To look on Ballawhane. The little childher on me smile, The lovely flowers I see, An' through the little everin' The t' rushes sing to me. COUNTRY COURTSHIP 41 COUNTRY COURTSHIP JOHNNY' an' me was sweethearts Many a year gone by, Stannin' aroun' in the haggart, An' havin' a cooish on the sly. Till " Mayry, Mayry, Mayry, where's the milk ? " An' " Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, you'll be took!" An' " Dear me heart, wherever is that gel!" An' " Bless me sowl, that Johnny should be shook!" Johnny was goin' to market With priddhas, an' butter, an' eggs, An' of coorse I was runnin' to meet him, Jus' for to soople me legs. Then " Mayry, Mayry, Mayry! Where's that gel!" An' " Johnny, Johnny, Johnny! Do you hear!" An' " Bless me sowl, that Mayry should be shook! " An' " Dear me heart, what's keepin' Johnny theer!" 42 MANX MELODIES Johnny'd be firin' the chimley With a wisp ot gorse an' sthrow, An' of coorse I was houlin' the matches Jus' till he set it aglow. But " Mayry, Mayry, Mayry, come you here!" An' " Johnny, Johnny, John, come urrov that!" An " Dear me heart, wherever's Mayry gone!" An' " What in the worl' is them two at!" Johnny an' me was married Many a year ago, An' a fine scutch of childher at us — Ma word, how the lumpers grow ! Now it's " Mayry, Mayry, Mayry, min' the chile," An' " Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, wipe your feet; " An' I'm spendin' me time washin' dishes, An' John is kep' running for meat ! " INASMUCH " 43 " INASMUCH " A STRANGER passes this way at night ^^ When the earth is laid to rest : He pauses before each cottage door Like a long expected guest. Is it only a ray of the white moonlight That falls on the dewy ground? Or is it the gleam of a Kingly Robe That sheds such radiance round? He pauses before each cottage door When the silence is still and deep : There are souls that work and souls that rest, And souls that must watch and weep. Is it only the track of the children's feet That has furrowed the roadway there? Or is it the print of a Pierced Foot That was heavy with human care? Then to those who weep, and to those who sleep, And to those who watch and wake, There comes the touch of a tender Hand For a suffering stranger's sake. 44 MANX MELODIES Is it only the breath of the balsam pine That is filling the midnight vale? Or is it the balm of a Healing Calm That sweetens the perfumed gale? For a stranger came to these gentle souls, And a sick heart craved for rest : They gave her their love and they gave her their care And they gave her of all their best. Is it only the wind in the waving pines Or the sound of the distant sea? Or is it the voice of the Stranger Guest — " Ye did it unto Me." Nova Scotia, 1907. THE FAIRY DOG 45 THE FAIRY DOG Childhcr round the Chiollagh } I A HE poor lil doggie is weenin' To see will we let him come in; It's like he'll be lost on the mountain, An' shiverin' out in the win'. Mammy What talkin' of dogs is there on you — What is it you're schamin' theer? Be done with your capers an' noisin', There's no lil doggie here ! Child her His lil grey paw is workin', Pushin' in at the crack of the dhure, An' a scutchin' of leaves an' rubbage Thrailin' in with his hair on the flure; An' the poor lil doggie is weenin' To see can he come to the heat, Goin' a losin' it's like on the mountain, An' starvin' for somethin' to eat. 46 MANX MELODIES Mammy What talkin' of starvin's there on you? Your suppers is barely ate. Is it wantin' your pieces already — It's a piece of a stick you should get! Childher His two HI eyes is peerin' Out under the tussocks of hair, An' a long lil tail on him wavin' An' sweepin' the flure all bare. An' the poor lil doggie is weenin' Comin' in from the wet an' the mire, An' sweesin' himself, an' sweesin' To see will he get to the fire. Mammy (lighting candle) Are you nearly done with your pipe, Daa? Is it time we were goin' upstairs? These childher is noisin' an' talkin' When they ought to be sayin' their prayers. Some surt of a dog they are seein'— An' deed but it's likely enough, For Themselves will be watchin' an' peepin', An' takin' a bit of a huff. THE FAIRY DOG 47 Th' oul' people would always be sayin' They were sendin' their dogs before, That the hearth would be goin' a leavin', An' a turf or some bons for a store. (to childher) Well! foller your shaddas to bed then. See them climbin' up theer by the wall — An' I wouldn' thrus' but the las' wan Will be took at the fayries for all ! Childher (going upstairs) An' the poor lil doggie is weenin', Sittin' all by himself on the flure — Oh Mammy! Don't leave us! They're comin', Thrailin' in at the crack of the dhure ! 48 MANX MELODIES LITTLE BOY BEG V^HERE are you going, little Boy Beg, With your little grey dog an' all ? I'm going to look for the King an' Queen, To see will they cure me for all. Where will you find them, little Boy Beg, The King an' the Queen so high ? I'll watch from the bank where the bluebells grow To see will they ever pass by. How will you know them, little Boy Beg, When you've wandered many a mile ? I'll know the King by his golden crown, An' the Queen by her lovely smile. How will they see you. little Boy Beg, With your poor little crutch an' all ? I'll be houlin' my flow'rs an' makin' my bow, An' the Queen she'll see me for all. LITTLE BOY BEG 49 What will you say to them, little Boy Beg, When you stand at the carriage door? I'll give them a flow'r, an' they'll touch my han', An' I'll never be lame no more. An' that very same day the King came by, An' the Lady Queen she smiled; An' they tuk the flow'r from the little han', An' they put the cure on the child. Now little Boy Beg can walk an' run With his little grey dog an' all. God bless the King and his lovely Queen — But he hadn't no crown for all ! 50 MANX MELODIES THE KING'S VISIT \\T HAT are ye shoutin', Lizzie? I'm comin' so quick as I can, An' what call have you to be talkin' with every passin' young man! The King ! What King is there on ye — chut — capers — an' up these hills ! Aw, well ! Is it raelly the King though ? An' me in my dishabills ! Give us a heis up the hedge, gel — we'll be seein' handy from theer, To think of the King of Englan' comin' all the way up here ! I'd like to have put a clean brat on me, but I hadn't no time at all, For I come so quick as I could the moment I heerd you call. I min' they was used to be sayin' this falla was middlin' wile, An' lashins of gool spent at him since he was a lump of a chile. THE KING'S VISIT 51 But th' oul' Queen nussed him clavver, and give him scope for to run, The knowing that he'd come to when he would have had his fun. Aw the Lady she was! Ma word! Th' oul' Queedn that is gone, That was sittin' quite's an earwig, doin' judgment from her throne, An' the high wans goin' a scutchin' if they didn' be mindin' themselves, And an eye for the sarvents as well, that there wasn' no duss on the shelves. An' rowlin' her bonnad ribbons to be all so nate's a pin, An' larnin' the childher their duty, but spashul this wan that's in. It's like she'd be radin' the laws to 'm while sittin' beside his bed, The way she'd be havin' him studdy by the time he'd come to be head. An' sarvin' his time for King, eddicated an' all for to know, Aw, a rale grammatical falla — Prince of Wales they were callin' him to, An' was'n it our " Cap'n " Hunter that was with him aboord the ship, To see that them ignorant haythens was not givin' none of their lip. 52 MANX MELODIES There's them comin' though — there — roun' by Cronk Urleigh, see — Gerrourra th' road, Lizzie veen! Is it devoured you're wantin' to be Under the feet of the horses? Stan' quite, now, for these wans to tell The pretty the Manx gels is — (The King passes) — Aw! 'Well! MOUNTAIN AND MOON 53 MOUNTAIN AND MOON T2 IGHT on the mountain top she poised and A ^ stood, A moment all her rounded splendour showed, Then leaped in air and took her heavenly road, Casting her veil o'er valley, hill, and wood, While old Barrule remained in pensive mood. Still on she went to some care-free abode, And never slacked her silver steps or slowed, Leaving him that one kiss whereon to brood; But with unruffled calm his quiet might Watched his own glen nor heeded her a jot, Till in an ecstasy of sport and spite She fled into the nearest cloud to blot With darkness all his world; he heeded not, Knowing she could not long keep out of sight. 54 MANX MELODIES PASSING OF THE FAYR1ES " A N' was there a dhrop between us? " **• That's what they're sayin' still. An' never a dhrop was there at all, But a crowd of wans in the road for all, An' sthrivin' up the hill. The dawn was barely sthreakin' An' a sup o' rain doin' in; But liftin' as the day grew on, Like dhryin' up when the night was gone, With a scutch o' risin' win'. An' here was these wans comin', An' creepenin' up the side, With a surt of murmurin', wailin', soun' That seemed to be risin' all aroun', Like the soun' of the weary tide. There was oul\ an' young, an' childher, All bended under loads; With beds an' crocks, an' spuds, an' grips. An' spinnin' wheels, an' taller dips, All film' up the roads. PASSING OF THE FAYR1ES 55 From Earey Beg an' Earey Moar, Over the broken bridge; Over the pairk at Earey Glass, By Balla'himmin and up Rhenass, An' all along the ridge. An' toilin' up Bearey Mountain, With that wailin', sighin' soun' As if their hearts were goin' a-breakin', The for their last leave they were takin', Wherever they were boun'. An' Bearey was roulin' his cloak, An' reachin' it down his side, An' coaxin' them up an' lappm' them roun', Till the wailin' was dyin' gradjual down, Like the calm of the ebbing tide. ,6 MANX MELODIES " GREAT STORE " '"pIRED an' oul' an' wore An' a lif at these wans when i'm took! But the Lord will send in His own good time, That never His poor forsook. The walls is goin' roun' When I rise for to try for to dhress, An' I'm forced to sit by the side of the bed An' wait for the house to take ress ! I was middlin' smart for all Till the time when I fell in the Glen, Goin' up to supper the pigs, the sowles ! An' the leg was bruk at me then. The coul', the coul', an' the paini An' the hollerin' out for Crowe; An' the thought of the craythurs wantin' their mate, An' it spilt at me all in the snow I " GREAT STORE " 57 But Crowe came by at las', Goin' home from the Ramsey mart, " Them pigs will be wantin' their mate," I said, When they got me home on the cart. So that's the way it iss, An' I'll never be sthrayin' far; But we mus' have somethin' to keep us down, The stubborn an' proud we are. This wumman is good to me, too, An' I'm gettin' the bes' thass in, She was rared at me, an' me darter's chile, An' married on Dicky-the-Win'. I'm tired an' oul' an' done! Nor able to stan' or to roam, But it's only to wait for the Lord's own time, An' He will be taking me Home. 58 MANX MELODIES BOBBY T)OOR Bobby, he Ihravelled from dhure to dhure,' An' each wan gev him a piece; He'd ress on the settle or lie on the flure, An' a bit of dhry bread was a feas'. He had his ouT cot an' a bit of a turf, To keep out the couth of the night; But it's up he'd be an' down at the surf, As soon as the morning was light. Tihere's wans would be urging him out to the Brows, To be fetchin' their cattle in, But Bobby'd be heavin' hard words at the cows, 'Twas makin' his sowl to sin. Poor Bobby lay down on his dying bed, An' " Wumman," we heard him say, " Put out them boots an' that piece of bread, For I'm goin' a long, long way." BOBBY 59 The bread was a piece of a barley cake, The las' his Mother had made, Kep' by him these years for his Mother's sake, In the chiss with her Bible laid. We lef him good-night when our work was done, An' sof we went out on the dhure; An' behouT ye, next mornin' poor Bobby was gone — But his boots was lef on the flure. 6o MANX MELODIES THE CHURCH BRINGS US HOME A COOISH, a kiss, an' a whisper, A sooryin' summer's day; Then work an' childher an' bother The ress of the way. Some takes the road by the Chappal, An' some houls on by the Church, An' some falls down by the wayside, Lef all in the lurch. I'm used on the Chappal for all — It's homelier like in the dark, But Himself was took at the Pazon, An' larnt for Parish Clerk. They're coming to see me reglar — Church wans an' Chappal wans too; An' I'm not sayin' no ill of neither — It's juss how we've grew. The Church wans is middlin' free, An' passin' the time o' day, An' Church was in before the Chappal, As th' oul people say. THE CHURCH BRINGS US HOME 61 The Chappal wans is high, though, More prouder an' wearin' falls, An' the power of fine discoorsin' Thass at them when they calls. But Church houls out her arrums For every chile that's born; An' it's Her that puts the blessin' On the marriage morn. When the work an' bother is over, An' childher have left us to roam, Like a tandhar oul' nursing mother The Church brings us home. An' then whether Church or Chappal, Or fell by the way — we must come; For without never makin' no difference, The Church brings us Home. 62 MANX MELODIES CURLEWS HP HE winds cried over the waters And the waves cried up to the sky; And the curlews cried in the darkness Where surely land was nigh. The cry went up in the old time From souls in a demon thrall; But the winds' and the waves' and the curlews' Was the oldest cry of all. And men cried out in the darkness To the god of the cruel sea, To spare their souls in the tumult And hear their anguished plea. And the winds and the waves and the curlews Went on with their endless call ; But the cry of the men for mercy Was the saddest cry of all. CURLEWS 63 Mananan, Mac-y-Leir Mananan, hear oh hear! Mananan, god of the wave Mananan, hear and save! From the might of the sea in the deep of the night, From the roar in the darkness, the madness ot fright, From the Powers of 111 in the hopeless fight — Mananan, hear and save! Is there never an answer heard ? Never an answering word ? Never a hand to save — Nought but the cruel wave. In the might of the sea they were drowned deep, In the roar of the darkness they sank to sleep, And the wives and the children were left to weep — And Mananan could not save. 64 MANX MELODIES THE Saints came over from Ireland, And they heard the curlews cry, And they knew that in mist and darkness The land was surely nigh. Far spent they were and weary With battling the salt-sea wave, And far was their home in Ireland And ever the coracle drave. And they heard the voice of the waters And the storm winds took no rest; But the curlews still were crying And still they held their quest. For Patrick had spoken in Ireland And sent them on their way To seek through the salt sea-waters For the Hill of the Rising Day. But grey was the sea around them And grey was the mist before, And full was the air with voices But never a glimpse of shore. CURLEWS 65 And ever a space was rifted By shadowy demon hands And they watched the Powers of Evil Warring in grisly bands. Then Romuil said, " We have battled And fought through the weary hours And the mist that is folded around us May save us from Evil Powers. We will battle and fight no longer No masterless men are we; But rest in the Hand of our Master Who ruleth all Powers that be." And they laid them down in the darkness Nor heeded the leaping wave; And their sleep was the sleep of children While ever the coracle drave. And the winds and the waves and the waters Went on with their endless call, But the cry of the men for mercy Went up to the Power of all. 66 MANX MELODIES And behold on the wings of the morning They floated in Dalby Cove, And the mist was riven before them And the sun shone out above. So the Saints came over from Ireland To break the demon sway, And the Light sprang out of the darkness On the Hill of the Rising Day. HILL OF THE RISING DAY 67 HILL OF THE RISING DAY r^RONK ny-Irree-Lhaa Dark at the break of day! When dawn begins to show With pearl-white glow, Then from the furrowed sea Turn weary eyes to thee, And homing toilers of the night Look up to where the orient light Shall kindle on thy burning height Its first bright ray. All that in gloom had lain Leaps into life again, As to thy rugged heart The sunbeams dart; And with the trickling streams Catching the flying gleams, Come dancing down from side to side To spread their gladness far and wide, And fling themselves along the tide In silver rain. 68 MANX MELODIES Larks in the lift above Sing to the light they love; And round their rocky keep The falcons sweep; For night and gloom have fled, God's sun is overhead, And shining down with quick'ning ray On Lag-ny-Keeilley's ruins grey Where brooded at the Break of Day His Holy Dove. JOHN THE PRIEST 69 JOHN THE PRIEST JOHN the Priest of Corna dale Late crowned with scholar's bays; Now sent to teach a rustic flock, Had cursed his dreary days. Far on the slopes of North Barrule The Corna valley lies; And far remote the lonely keeill That seems so near the skies. So few and simple were the folk And scattered through the vale — What honour should a scholar find In savage Corna dale? Now John the Priest he laid him down Upon his pallet bare; And John he heard or dreamed he heard Soft voices in the air. " Glory to God " they sang once more As heralds from on high; And John he rose or dreamed he rose, But nought could he espy. 70 MANX MELODIES Grey sheets of mist were rolling up, And pouring through the vale; When through a rift shone steps of gold — From Heaven to Corna dale. And John he saw, or thought he saw. Or dreamed he thought he saw, His Master on those shining steps, And bowed himself in awe. My Corna sheep are dear to me As any in the fold, My Corna dale is near to me As Lebanon of old. Thine is the work to save these sheep, Thy glory let it be, For every soul in Corna dale Thou, John, wilt answer me!" The cloud uplift : the sun sprang up And sparkled through the vale; A score of pearly smoke-wreaths rose To Heaven from Corna dale. Then John the Priest stretched forth his hands And blessed the rising sun, And blessed the simple folk around, And taught them one by one. JOHN THE PRIEST 71 No book nor scrip could there be found; But on rough slabs of rock He cut and graved as best he might The lessons for his flock. And that himself should ne'er forget His vision in the vale, He carved—" Of all the sheep is John The Priest in Corna dale." Far on the slopes of old Barrule Lone lies the ruined keeill And there the words of John the Priest In Runes are living still. 72 MANX MELODIES THE LIL OUL' GHOS' A LIL oul' ghos' was used to go About the roads an' to an' fro, An' sighin' in a lonely place With long coul' breath upon your face, An' little shifty noises at him Close behind your footsteps, drat him; The stick goin' twitchin' from your han' An' follerin' sobbin' if you ran. Aw well, he never hurted me A fair considerate ghos' was he. What was he doin' urrov his bed, Puttin' decent folk in dread? Why couldn' he lie an' be takin' his res' An' a fine new stone at him cut with the bes' ? High-minded it's like, that he wouldn' stay With the neighbours roun', respectable clay? Aw no, the poor fella, but scratchin' his head To see what he'd do when the scrolls would be read, THE LIL OUL' GHOS' 73 An' the worl' through-other and all upset, An' him so held that he couldn' get, An' sobbin' an' sighin' An' peekin' an' spyin' To see could he meet with an' oul' pair of shears; Aye, so it appears, That's the for he was carryin' on An' sniffin' about when the light was gone; Aw well, the poor fella, aye, whisper it close — You see there was knots at the ghos' ! The lil oul' ghos' got tejus though, An' time, they said, that he mus' go 'Twix' bark an' bole, an' some were sayin' These ghoses should be goin' a-layin' By Romish Priests, for th' ancient Faith Will not be bet by butch or wraith, An' plenty Romans comin' here For change an' holly every year (Them boys that's larnt at Stonyhurst) So let them send an' find the first That for a crown would do it for 'em An' fix the ghos' in the billey-gorrym. Aw then there was talkin' an' writin' an' jowin' An' askin' advice from them that was knowin' ; An' a passel of Romans agreed for to try For sake of the practice to put him by — But would you believe it, the lil oul' ghos' Was scandalous vext to be druv to a pos' ; 74 MANX MELODIES An' behoul ye next everin' when all was ready An' lights in their fisses burnur steady, With all in procession an' lookin' so gran' An' the Latin goin' rowlin' like tunes on the ban', He took an' defied them, an' flippin', an' fiyin' He puffed out the lights with his sobbin' an' sighin', An' gabblin' the Latin a line ahead, They couldn' catch up with him, fast as they read. But wan boul' buoy was among them though That kep' his cannel safe aglow, An' he took an' he threw it droppin' with talla Right into the mids of the lil oul' falla, Or into the place where he heard him sigh, An' I wouldn' be so rude as to tell you a lie. Then over the Latin he tore like blazes, Pishag as gabberash, desperat' phrases, Hebrew an' Greek an' Gaelic an' all Till the lil oul' ghos' begun for to crawl Over the road, an' goin' an' goin' With the boy-bogh follerin' jowin' and jowin', Till sniffin' an' sighin' An' sobbin' an' cryin' He got him tucked up in th' oul' billey-gorrym An' for seven long years was the gaysh doin' for him. Well, well, is it thinkin' of movin' you are, An' deed but the daylight will not be far, THE LIL OUL' GHOS' 75 The way an oul' falla like me gets talkin' An' keepin' you here when you should have been walkin' ; What is it you're askin' — how long ago? (My word but the night is so black as a crow) — An' I wouldn' be so rude as to tell you a lie, Seven years this night they were puttin' him by ! 76 MANX MELODIES IN GLEN ALDYN PAIRIES? They're in Glen Aldyn still Whatever you may say; I've seen them round about the mill I've met them coming down the Gill, And underneath the bridges They're just as thick as midges At their play. But don't you speak a word For you'll be overheard, And in a crack the place is dark ! Not a glimmer, not a spark, Nor sight or light of fairy feet Where the tumbling waters meet. Only up above the trees Stirring softly in the breeze A laugh — Ha, ha! And then afar The echoes ringing to the sound Of their singing all around. IN GLEN ALDYN 77 And little hands are plucking at your hair, And unseen voices mock you everywhere. And suddenly the river seems to brim With full tumultuous music, and a whim Is in your mind that you'll forget That you are you, Or what, or who, Or whither setl And treading softly in the Middle World Lest by too rash adventure you be hurled Headlong into the work-a-day again; You find yourself on fairy pinions borne Hither and thither like the thistledown That flutters shimmering on the shallows brown Lying below the fields of ripening corn. And all the glen is in a rainbow mist With pearly colours that the sun has kissed. The roses fling aloft their top-most sprays In gardens all along the water-ways, A lark is singing somewhere in the blue And through the mist the wood-doves' coo Comes dreamily upon the sense, Till all becomes so tense That in a corner of your brain A bit of you awakes again, Longing to share these happy things With others who have found their wings. 78 MANX MELODIES Then children's voices break upon your dream At play like fairies in the sunny stream; And laughing girls are bathing hands and faces Where briar rose with tramman interlaces To form a tiring-room for simple graces. And neve'r fear But somewhere near, About the mill Or up the Gill The fairy-folk are round about — That merry shout 1 Was it a child, or the Fairy-Host, Was it a girl or a merry ghost? Fairies and children you'll find them still Down at the bridges or up at the mill. THE BABE OF EAREY CUSHLIN 79 THE BABE OF EAREY CUSHLIN QO sad the lot of babe forlorn That hath no home in earth or sky, But sobs along the dark'ning broogh — " A Babe without a Name am I!" Scarce launched upon its earthly course, It had no time to sin or pray; But all unwelcome, undesired, Its harmless life was cast away. Unblest by sign of Holy Cross, Whose weight, like Christ, it surely bore, A sinless soul, through dreary space Thrust out to wander evermore. It sobs along the lonely broogh, Where night and darkness fill the sky, " Oh, pity me! Oh, pity me I A Babe without a Name am I!" 80 MANX MELODIES Dark was the night and rough the road The heiress in her anguish trod; To frenzy wrought, her only thought To hide her shame beneath the sod. Ask not what woeful deed was done Ere dimly dawned the sombre day; What madness of despair sent forth That dreadful cry above the bay! The sea-mews rose and wheeled and crossed, White wings against the dark brow'd hill; And widening circles on the tide Broke silently, and all was still. At Earey-Cushlin blinds are drawn, And whispers fill the stagnant air, Wet footprints track the silent hall, And seaweed drips from off the stair. And on a day the mourners go, And hymns are sung and prayers are said, And in the churchyard's hallowed ground They leave one more among the dead. THE BABE OF EAREY CUSHLIN Si And should they grudge her hallowed ground That knew not what despair was hers, Nor dreamed what madness found her there In that lone Keeill among the furze ? So Mass was sung and prayers were said, And tender hearts wept tears of pain. Perchance such tears might help to cleanse A hopeless soul from sinful stain. Sad fate was hers; yet might she hope, Though ages long must pass before, Through prayers and fears and burning tears At last to reach the heavenly door. And then — when purged by cleansing fires She trembles toward the distant light, Will she not think of that poor babe Thrust out to wander through the night ! So sad the lot of Babe unblest That hath no home in heaven or earth, But mourns in its cold winding sheet About the place that gave it birth. 82 MANX MELODIES It may not reach to heaven above, It may not rest in earth below; Nor with its lighted taper pierce The limbo of its outcast woe. The grey tide leaps upon the rocks, The sea-mews rise and cross and wheel, And ever as the darkness falls The Babe weeps lonely in the Keeill. And in its trailing winding sheet Sobs o'er the broogh its piteous cry: " Oh, pity mel oh, pity me! A Babe without a Name am I!" The old man ceased, and in the pause, We watched the smoke against the hill; As in a dream he told his tale, As in a dream we listened still. His sea-blue eyes though dimmed by years Saw far beyond our time and space, And child-like faith in unseen things Had smoothed the furrows in his face. THE BABE OF EAREY CUSHLIN 83 His simple creed — to do his best As guardian of that treasured pile, Whose ancient towers and ruined choirs Stand crowned about Peel's holy Isle. And leaning on his staff he sat Beside us in the sunny nook, Embrasured by cathedral walls Whose stones were all his sacred book. And then one spoke — " Ah, say not so That sinless souls could thus be left To suffer for another's fault Forever — of all hope bereft. Such hapless souls might rather be The nurslings of the saints on high, And learn in gentler worlds than ours The music of the earth and sky." " Alas!" he said, " Those little ones Who unbaptised have breathed and died, May never reach the highest bliss — But still — the Father's net is wide. 84 MANX MELODIES And you shall hear how this poor Babe Was lifted from its grievous plight, And, by the faith of two poor men, Set free to reach the blessed Light." From Niarbyl Point to Bradda Head The great Bay Mooar lies broad and deep, And here the fishers cast their nets, While landward folk are lost in sleep. With steady sweep of heavy oars, From Dalby strand they make their way. Before the lingering light has left The crags of Cronk-ny-lree Lhaa. Sometimes the night is loud with storm, Sometimes the creeping fog comes round, And sometimes all the moonlit hours Are holy with a peace profound. Sometimes between the dusk and dark The fishers see a glancing spark, A tiny riding-light; Now here — now there — And now a pair, And now a score, And everywhere Around them dancing bright. THE BABE OF EAREY CUSHLIN 85 And straightway all abouT them ride The fairy nickeys on the tide; And all the air is full of din, And elfish voices, shrewd and thin, And creak of spar, And smell of tar, And water washing up the side; While here and there, And everywhere, The gentle folk Are well bespoke, And room is left for them to ride In safety on the gleaming tide. And then a puff Of wind comes by, " Oie-vie, oie-vie!" the fairies cry. And all around the sea is bare, And not a boat is anywhere! Two mates were drifting thus one night In lonely silence on the Bay, Such silence as old comrades know That means more than a man can say. Then spoke at last the younger man — " The Babe is fretting sore to-night; And pitiful it is to hear Its cries up yonder on the height!" 86 MANX MELODIES And then the twain began to speak Of that sad story of the place; And question why such things should be And what could limit Saving Grace. " For seemeth me," the elder said, " That babe hath more than common loss, For it was born on holy ground Though never named with sign of cross." " And seemeth me," he musing said, " It must have been so nearly saved, That' even now it might be blest If any man the deed had braved. And surely God's own heart must ache To hear it sobbing through the dark, And long to have its christened soul Beside Him in the sheltering ark. Your tender babes are safe at home, And cradled in their mother's prayers; My sturdy sons to manhood grown, Have long repaid my early cares. THE BABE OF EAREY CUSHLIN 87 The very hawks upon the hill Watch their fierce brood through calm and storm ; And timid conies in the fern Keep their soft younglings safe and warm. And will not He who made them all Watch o'er His little lost ones too, And, maybe waited till this hour, For us poor men His Will to do." And then the other made reply — " Let us christen the Babe if that be so, And if we are doing the Will of the Lord He will send us a token, that we shall know." And these men of the sea stood up in the boat, That under them gave, and rocked and swayed, And their hearts o'erflowed with a mighty faith, And they spake with God and were not afraid. And they signed the Cross on the midnight air, While the lifting billows rolled and fell, And the star of night was their altar light, And the deep sea sounded their vesper bell. 88 MANX MELODIES And the elder lifted his sea-worn hand, And bared to the sky his rev'rent head; While the younger followed him word by word. And thus to the Babe they spoke and said — " If thou'rt a boy thy name shall be Juan, If thou'rt a girl thy name shall be Joan." And the crying ceased and the Babe was still And the sound of the sea was heard alone. And a star shot up from the lone dark Keeill And a soul flew free from the throes of night ; And their eyes were opened that they could see The Babe's glad welcome to fields of light. And they heard the music of harps on high While the lifting billows rolled and fell, Till the sun rose over the watching Cronk And the deep sea sounded their matin bell. THE LITTLE EVKR1JM' 89 THE LITTLE EVERIN' npHE sun is goin' wes' with me The little everin's nigh, An' clearer shines the light upon Those mansions in the sky; An' surely through that level light The very flowers shine more bright, An' all things soften to the sight, In the little everin'. The years have slipped away from me Like snow before the rain; I would not ask fo have them back Or live them through again; But thankful a! the close of day To linger on the homeward way An' watch the childher at their play In the little everin'. 90 MANX MELODIES There's some that's gone away from me In lands afar to roam; An' some that's gone to wait for me In that new Heavenly Home. I see them in the sunset gleam They speak with me across the stream An' all my life becomes a dream In the little everin'. Glossary BEG: Little. Billey GORRYM: Holly tree; lit. blue tree. Bons : Sticks gathered for fuel. Broogh : Edge of low cliff. Brooillagh: Broken meats. Chiollagh : The open hearth. COOISH : A chat. Couth: The cold. Cronk-ny-irree-lhaa : Hill of the Rising Day. CUSHAG : Ragwort. Gaysh: A holding spell. JEEL: Mischief. Jough : Ale. Kebeg : Call to the calves. Keeill : Early Celtic Church. Lag-ny-Keeilley : Hollow of the church. Ma CHREE : My heart. Moaney : Turfy bogland. Mooar : Great. OlE-viE : Good night. Rhullic : Burial-ground. SCEDDAN: Herring. SoORYlN' : Smiling; courting. The Little Everin' : Twilight. TREIH: Sad. Veen : Dear. JOHN LONO, LIMITED, PUBLISHERS, LONDON, ENGLAND, 1922 THE N'CRTHUMBERLAND PRESS, LTD., TKOkMON 1TRBBT, NEWCASTL1-ON-TTNE 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. in'blLi — ,, ttWZilL REC'D LD MAR 1 2 1962 _ OCT ^ 6 1 9 86 *u*o , DISC. HOV 5 J3B6 LD 21-100?n-6,'56 (B9311sl0)476 General Library University of California Berkeley GENERAL UBRABY-U.C BERKELEY BQOtnoii bD 498072 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY