[From Manx Ballads, 1896]

 YN VEN-AINSHTER DEWIL  

THE CRUEL MISTRESS.

 

MYR hie mee magh gys Sostyn,
She ben-seyrveet mee ayn,
As faill mooar ren ee chebbal dou,
MY aillin r'ee* son blein.

Eisht lesh ny chebbyn mooar eck,l
Nagh daill mee r'ee mvr shoh,
Dy gholl maree.gys Holfant,
My veagh shin ooilley bio.

Eisht lesh dooin faagail Sostyn,
Ve gys my hrimshey trome,
Erson ren my ven-ainshter
Er-tuittym ayns gralh rhym.

Ta aym thle mooar as thalloo,
Marish argid as airh,
Shen ooilley neem's stowal ort,
My nee oo phoosey mee."

Gur-e-mie eu, ven-ainshter,
Cha jargyms poosey nish,
Ta mee er n'yannoo gialdyn,
Nagh vod feer jesh ve brisht.

Ta shen rish my ghraih Sally.
Yn ard-sharvaant eu hene,
O! cred shin mee, ven-ainshter,
My chree ta lesh ee shen."

Nagh ren ee, my ven-ainshter,
Goalll lane dy chorree rhym ?
Nagh loo ee seose as vreear ec,
Dy ghoalll my vloys voym ?

Tra nagh jinnin poosey ee,
Dy ve son ben don hene,
Ghow ee shuityn feer aggalragh,
Dy chur mee ayns pryssoon.

Va fainey er y vair eck,
Myr s'bollagh v'ee dyn gray,se,
She ec eh ayns my phog,-,ad,
Jerkal rhyms stirranse baase.

Nagh re lesh fer-oyck-y-chee
Hie mee er chur lesh scose,
Kiongoyrt rish bing dy gheiney,
Dy ve er my vrlwnys ?

Loayr mee jeh reddyn jeeragh,
Ny-yeih, cha row couyr ayn;
Son loo ee scose dy vol mee ee,
Eisht hie mee ayns pryssoon.

Eisht shitiish gilillyn aegey,
Ta gealshtagh rhymys nish,
Nagh jean-jee jeemys gamman,
Ny craid mygeayrt-y-mish.
Son ga nagh vel mee folljagh,
Yn selhll shegin don faagail;
O I bannaght ayd, ghralh Sally,
Son gralh rhyt neem's partall.

 

I went out to England,
A lady met me there,
And wages good she offered me,
If I 'd serve her for a year.

Then tempted with her offers,
I did engage to her,
To go with her to Holland,
if we should all be spared.

Then when we did leave England,
It was my bitter grief,
Because my old mistress in
Love had fallen with me.

I have a big house and land,
With silver and with gold,
All this I will give to thee,
If thou wilt marry me."

1 thank you kindly, mistress,
I cannot marry now,
For I have made a promise,
That cannot be broken.

It is to my dear Sally,
Your own chief waiting-maid,
Oh I do believe me, mistress,
My heart it is with her.

Then did she not, my mistress,
Get very wrath with me ?
Did she not take oath and vow,
To take my life from me ?

When I would not marry her,
To be my wedded wife,
Unjust suits she took 'gainst me,
To put me in prison.

A ring was on her finger,
She was so bare of grace,
She slipped it in my pocket,
Thinking I 'd suffer death.

Was it not by a policeman
I was being brought up,
To go before a jury,
To receive my judgment ?

Quite straight I spoke the truth,
yet Remedy there was none;
She swore that I deceived her;
Then went I in prison.

Then all ye young men, who are
Now list'ning unto me,
Of me do not make your game,
Nor mock about this thing.
For though I am not guilty,
I have to leave the world;
Blessing on thee, dear Sally,
For love of thee I die.

Hire to." With her large offers."


 

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Any comments, errors or omissions gratefully received The Editor
HTML Transcription © F.Coakley , 2001