Part 3

Lone little tholtan, left by the wayside, Where have they wandered that loved thee of old? Where are the children that played by the fireside? Poor little chiollagh, forlorn and cold!

Mutely thy gables are standing asunder, Rafterless, ragged, the ruin between! All that was homelike, secluded and tender, Stripped of its sheltering thatch is seen.

Why have they left thee so drear and forsaken, Was it misfortune, or sadder unthrift? Was there a stone of the Church in thy building Secretly working to send them adrift?

Was it the dream of a new Eldorado Lured them away with its roseate hue? Only to find the green hills of the distance Bare as Barooil to the nearer view.

Come winds of Autumn and cover it gently, Poor little hearth-stone deserted and bare; Cover it softly with leaves from the woodlands, Lap it away from the cold bleak air.

Hasten the day when those desolate gables, Holding their secret of failure and dearth, Gently shall sink to their grave by the wayside, Hidden at last in the warm kind earth.

CALLING OF THE NAME.

I 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.

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 fallin', 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 Goodbye with my Daddy An' lay me on my bed-- Chile veen, chile veen, what ails thee! I answered it, she said.

RHULLICK-NY-QUAKERYN.

What 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.'"

"'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 Church-yard.'"

"So its 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."

OIE'LL VOIRREY.

D'you min' them oul' Oie'll Voirreys with the hollan all in berries An' the carvels goin' a singin' on the night? An' Tommy Danny Quilliam an' quare oul' Juan Illiam With cannles in their fisses for the light?

An' marchin' up the aisle, singin' sollum all the while With all the parish listenin' to them there? An' Pazon smilin' cheerful, but watchin' very keerful, To keep the wans reminded where they were?

There was teens of cannles blazin', an' all the people gazin', With Pazon's wans so studdy in the pew. An' Church all titivated an' tasty decorated, An' tossed up middlin' stylish at them too.

An' Billy Boyde the Bithig an' Johnny Bob the Kithag, Them wans was good thremendjus for the chune. Pretendin' at a loss, jus' to give the choir a toss, But sthrampin' to be at it very soon.

Wan time that I was workin' away at Cooil-ny-Eairkan, Gettin' holly with the res' for the day; So beat I was with slumber, an' carvels such a number, That down upon the flure I slipped, an' lay.

When I wakened by an' by, the moon was in the sky, An' all had gone an' lef me on the flure! The freckened urrov massy! I sweated like any lassie, Nor dursn't move an inch to rache the dhure!

For everywhere behoul' ye, black shaddas were aroun' me, Till I was jus' gone fainted with the fear. An' thrue as I am talkin' I saw them shaddas walkin' Like keepin' time with chunes I couldn't hear.

Though bein' Christmas mornin', or near enough the dawnin', I might have knew they couldn't harm at all. For isn't that night holy, that brought the Babe so lowly, The very bases doin' obedience in their stall?

But there I lay the freckened! Till one big shadda beckened, Aw, then I cleant like lightning urrov that! An comin' up the aisle, was Pazon, with a smile-- "Dear me," said he, "I had forgot me hat."

WORK OR PLAY.

On a fine summer day the misthress would say: "Them windies is scandalous mucky, "But if Kitty an' you will agree to consent "For to clane them, we'll think ourselves lucky!" It wasn' the work we was wantin' to shirk When the windies was goin' a rubbin', But feelin' the saf' on each side of the pane To be watched by the other gel scrubbin'.

An' still an' for all, there wasn' no call For Kitty to stan' on the lather, When Johnny an' me had agreed to consent For to go for to clane them togather, So "Kitty," says I, "'Tis time for to thry "For to go for to polish them windies, "An' the misthress," says I, "Says 'Jus you be spry "'An' not to be makin' no shindies.'"

For Kitty an' me was used for to be The wans that was doin' the clanin', Not like in them houses in towns where you're took If out of the windie you're lanin', But "Kitty," says I, "I'm thinkin'," says I, "Of them berries you're wantin' to gather. "An' safeter," says I, "When a mansarvant's by "For him to be out on the lather."

So Kitty give place with a _graue_ on her face An' look her revenge on the kettles, An' only I cleant middlin' handy from theer She'd have had me threw out in the nettles. "An' Kitty," says I, "Don't go for to thry "For to take for to give me no imperince, "Or its likely," says I, "If the masthar come by, "He'll be havin' ye took for intimperince."

An' well to be sure, there was polish dy-liooar Goin' a usin' that day on the windies, When Johnny begun for to come for to go For to take for to work with no shindies. For smilin' he wass, an' wilin' he wass, An' talkin' the gentle an' aisy-- Till th' everin' come down, an' the misthress come roun'-- An' she said we was Scandalous Lazy!

THE KING'S VISIT.

What 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. 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 ecutchin' 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.

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!

THE MOTHER'S CAROL.

Sing soft and low Ye winds that blow And whisper round this quiet shed, Wake not His sleep For shadows deep Are drawing round His sacred Head.

Sing sweet and high Ye birds that fly, But gently trill your tender theme; Lest all too soon Your joyous tune Should wake Him from some Heavenly dream.

Sing loud and strong Ye Angel throng To Kings and shepherds bear the sign, That peace on earth Has come to birth And lies amid the humble kine.

O let Him rest In this poor nest, Where still His Mother softly sings; For well we know What tears will flow Ere sorrows crown Him King of Kings.

THE SORROWFUL CROSSING.

"_Yet sorrow not as those who have no hope_."

O Ellan Vannin we are grieving sore, Lost Ellan Vannin, for the souls you bore Through that dark crossing to an unseen shore.

What was the story of that last farewell? Nought but the ocean's voice remains to tell, Tolling above them with its endless knell.

O sorrow, sorrow, for the ship that's lost, O sorrow, sorrow, for the tears she cost, But sorrow not for those that safely crossed.

Though through the darkness of the wintry morn Came that stern call for them ere day was born; No time to grieve for those they left forlorn!

Though with the blare of that great trumpet blast, High over head the mighty wave was cast, From storm to Peace eternal, swift they passed.

O sorrow, sorrow, for the ship that's lost, O sorrow, sorrow, for the tears she cost, But sorrow not for those that safely crossed.

For One came to them on that awful wave, With loving hands outstretched to calm and save-- Straight to the Port of His strong Arms they drave.

He took the nestling babe to His own Breast, He drew them safely through the surging crest Of death's dark wave to Light, and Peace, and Rest.

Long may we sorrow for the ship that's lost, Long may we sorrow for the tears she cost, But sorrow breaks in joy for those that crossed.

THE LITTLE EVERIN'.

The 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 to have them back Or live them through again; But thankful at the close of day I linger on the homeward way An' watch the childher at their play In the little everin'.

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.

Arrane - A song or ballad.

Beg or Veg - Little.

Bogh - Poor--term of endearment.

Bons - Bits of stick, charred gorse, &c., gathered for kindling a fire.

Carvel - A carol.

Chibber - A well.

Chiollagh - Hearth-stone.

Cooag - The Cuckoo.

Cooish - Confidential chat or discourse.

Couth - The cold.

Cushag - Ragwort.

Dreem - Back. The ridge of a hill.

Eirey - Heir.

Earey - An open airy place.

Faie - Field near dwelling house.

Garvel (for 'Cabby') - A horse.

Gairey - Rough pasture land grown over with gorse.

Glass - Grey or green.

Howlaa - A spirit who wails on the sea-shore before storm.

Jeel - Harm. Mischief.

Kirree - Sheep.

Keill - Small ancient chapel or cell.

Lhiannoo - A child.

Loaghtan - The brown mountain sheep.

Lumpers - Boys and girls. Probably a sailors' word.

Mannin or Vannin - Isle of Man.

Ma chree - My heart.

Meg - A lamb brought up by the hand.

Meein or Veen - Fine, soft--term of endearment.

Millish or Villish - Darling.

Mie or Vie - Good.

Mhellia - Harvest-Home

Moar - Great.

Nogh - To-night.

Oie - Eve.

Oie'll Voirrey - Eve of the Feast of Mary. Christmas Eve.

Rhullick - Burial Ground.

Sceddan - Herring.

Sniaghthey - Snow.

Sooree - Courting.

Tramman - Elder Tree.

Tholtan - Ruined cottage or barn.

Treih - Bad.

Traa-di-liooar - Time enough.

Ushag - A bird.