I mind me brother’s wife tellin’ me that quhen she was a lump of a gel she was livin’ out with her gran’father in Glen Rushen. The memory of the oul’ man lef’ him forra bit afore he died.
The night the day the gran’father was gerrin’ buried, she hard the dour open, an’ she was in bed with Johnny Mylrea’s wife (they was sisters). Then she heard some noise in the scraas (strips of sod laid on the rafter under the thatch) above her head. Then she went to look in the mornin’, and she found a purse in, with money – how much I couldn’t tell.
She got up cryin’ in the mornin’ and she said, “If gran’da didn’ know quhere the money was quhen he was alive, he knew quhen he was dead.”
Aw, deed ! It’s true enough, for she was a very good-livin’ woman – quhen she toul’ me an’ she was goin’ to class (Methodist) as strict as strict.
(source: Manx Folklore Notes by Sophia Morrison http://bit.ly/12ckpqe; photo)
