title: Lingua yola
text: # Lingua yola
  
  La lingua yola è una lingua germanica estinta appartenente al gruppo delle lingue germaniche occidentali, anticamente parlata in Irlanda.
  
  La lingua, particolarmente diffusa nella contea di Wexford, deve considerarsi un'evoluzione indipendente dell'Antico inglese parlato dagli anglosassoni che lasciarono l'isola all'arrivo dei Normanni guidati da Riccardo di Clare.
  
  La lingua, conosciuta fino a prima della sua estinzione come Yola (antico), viene generalmente considerato una evoluzione dell'inglese britannico, risultato da un'evoluzione propria dovuta all'isolamento dei territori nel quale si era radicato. Cambiato di poco nel corso dei secoli, sembra essere rimasto sostanzialmente invariato fino al 1800, secolo della sua estinzione.
  
  La lingua continuò ad essere parlata nel sud della contea di Wexford quando fu gradualmente sostituito dall'inglese irlandese.
  
  ## Esempio di lingua yola
  
  ### Canzone in lingua yola
  
  Fade teil thee zo lournagh, co Joane, zo knaggee? Th' weithest all curcagh, wafur, an cornee. Lidge w'ouse an a milagh, tis gaay an louthee: Huck nigher; y'art scuddeen; fartoo zo hachee?
  
  Well, gosp, c'hull be zeid; mot thee fartoo, an fade; Ha deight ouse var gabble, tell ee zin go t'glade. Ch'am a stouk, an a donel; wou'll leigh out ee dey. Th' valler w'speen here, th' lass ee chourch-hey.
  
  Yerstey w'had a baree, gist ing oor hoane, Aar gentrize ware bibbern, aamzil cou no stoane. Yith Muzleare had ba hole, t'was mee Tommeen, At by mizluck was ee-pit t'drive in.
  
  Joud an moud vrem earchee ete was ee Lough. Zitch vaperreen, an shimmereen, fan ee-daf ee aar scoth! Zitch blakeen, an blayeen, fan ee ball was ee-drowe! Chote well aar aim was t'yie ouz n'eer a blowe.
  
  Mot w'all aar boust, hi soon was ee-teight At aar errone was var ameing 'ar 'ngish ee-height. Zitch vezzeen, tarvizzeen, 'tell than w'ne'er zey. Nore zichel ne'er well, nowe, nore ne'er mey.
  
  ### Traduzione in lingua inglese moderna
  
  What ails you so melancholy, quoth John, so cross? You seem all snappish, uneasy, and fretful. Lie with us on the clover, 'tis fair and sheltered: Come nearer; you're rubbing your back; why so ill tempered?
  
  Well, gossip, it shall be told; you ask me what ails me, and for what; You have put us in talk, till the sun goes to set. I am a fool and a dunce; we'll idle out the day. The more we spend here, the less in the churchyard.
  
  Yesterday we had a goal just in our hand. Their gentry were quaking, themselves could not stand. If Good-for-little had been buried, it had been my Tommy, Who by misluck was placed to drive in.
  
  Throngs and crowds from each quarter were at the Lough; Such vapouring and glittering when stript in their shirts! Such bawling and shouting, when the ball was thrown! I saw their intent was to give us ne'er a stroke.
  
  But with all their bravado they were soon taught That their errand was aiming to bring anguish upon them Such driving, and struggling, 'till then we ne'er saw Nor such never will, no, nor never may.
  
  