YN Fenoderee hie da'n
Dy hroggal druight y vadran glass,
Luss-y-voldyn as luss-yn-ollee,
V'eh stampey fo e ghaa chass.
V'eh sheeyney magh er laare yn lheeannee
Cheau yn faiyr er y cheu chiare,
Hug eh yindys orrin nuirree,
As t'eh myleeaney foddey share.
V'eh sheeyncy magh er laare yn lheeannee.
Ghiarey ny lussyn ayns y vlaa,
Lubber-lub ayns y curragh shulnagh,
Myr v'eh goll va ooilley craa.
Yn ylarn echey va ghiarey ooilley,
Scryssey yn lheeannee rish y foaidyn,
As, my va ribbag faagit shassoo,
V'eh cilr stampey lesh e voyn.
went to the meadow,
To lift the dew at the grey dawn,
The maiden-hair and the cattle-herb,
He was stamping under both his feet.
He was stretching out on the ground* of the meadow;
He threw the grass on the left hand,
He caused us to wonder last year,
And this year he is far better.
He was stretching out on the ground of the meadow,
Cutting the herbs in bloom,
The bog-bean in the rushy curragh.,
As he went it was all shaking.
The scythe he had was cutting everything,
Skinning the meadow to the sods,
And, if a wisp were left standing,
He stamped it with his heel.