Did ya hear the sad news Emma Cowla?
’bout the li’l chil’ from the gill tha’s been took?
Aye, she was out theer playin’ at the strooan
When her mammy last had a look.
Playin’ with her dolly they say she was
An’ dancin’ them whirly curly twirls.
My, she’s such a li’l beauty –
For one of them Qualtra girls.
With eyes as big as me best saucers
All green like the sea’s summer skin.
Aw, she’s as lovely as a freshly baked bonnag
An’ as happy as a lhondoo in spring.
Singin’ songs to her dolly, Delilah,
An’ laughin’ mighty for the happy she makes.
It purra a smile on yer, aye, at the sight of
The mischief in tha’ li’l face.
Graysie! Graysie! up went the callin’.
I heard the roars an’ the shouts go out.
An’ the neighbours was off in a jiffy
To fields, hills an’ shores to scout.
Broke me heart it did hearin’ them voices
An’ no rest from moghrey ’til night.
O Yee! what tha’ poor family’s sufferin’!
Her mammy collapsed…worra sight.
Aye, Themselves has got her theer sayin’
Tha’ she’s took, an’ in places unknown.
Caught in the shaddas an’ half light of everin’
‘Tis no place for her. No. Not her home.
In me prayers I’m askin’ Himself now
For any good tha’s at me to be spent,
On bringin’ tha’ chil’ home safely
So hearts can be mended; not left rent.
Bring her home to her family as loves her!
Bring her home to her friends all around!
Bring her home to us folks who adore her!
Cair vie…please let her be found.
Cowla – Cowley
took – taken by the fairies
gill – small glen
strooan – stream
Qualtra – Qualtrough
lhondoo – blackbird
moghrey – morning
O Yee – O God
Themselves – the Little People/Fairies
shaddas – shadows
everin’ – twilight
Cair vie – God speed
(source: © 2016 Bernadette Weyde (an attempt at writing in the style of Kathleen Faragher); artwork is unknown title by Wade)
I'm a web designer, amateur historian and keen gardener and I enjoy bringing Manx history, folklore and poetry to a modern audience.
The acquisition of Harry Kelly’s cottage in 1938 to initiate the Cregneish folk museum was an act of faith, but
A li’l breeze stroog-stroogs through the bracken As a bird from the gill theer takes wing, An’ the hills is