Arrane Ashoonagh Dy Vannin
Arrane Ashoonagh Dy Vannin is het  van het Britse eiland Man. Het lied is in het  geschreven door William Henry Gill (1839-1923), de vertaling in  is gemaakt door John J. Kneen (1873-1939).

TEKSTEN

Versie in het Manx
O Halloo nyn ghooie,
O' Ch'liegeen ny s'bwaaie
Ry gheddyn er ooir aalin Yee,
Ta dt' Ardstoyl Reill Thie
Myr Barrool er py hoie
Dy reayl shin ayns seyrsnys as shee.

Tra Gorree yn Dane
Haink er traie ec y Lhane
Son Ree Mannin v'eh er ny reih
'S va creenaght veih Heose
Er ny chur huggey neose
Dy reill harrin lesh cairys as graih

Ren nyn ayryn g'imraa
Va Nooghyn shenn traa
Yn Sushtal dy Hee fockley magh
Shegin yeearree peccoil
Myr far aileyn Vaal,
Ve er ny chur mow son dy bragh.

Vec ooasle yn Theihll
Ayns creoighys tooilleil
Ta traaue ooir as faarkey, Gow cree
Ny jarrood yn fer mie
Ta coadey 'n lught-thie
Ren tooilleil liorish Logh Galilee.

D'eiyr yn sterrm noon as noal
Yn baatey beg moal
Fo-harey hug Eh geay as keayn
Trooid ooilley nyn ghaue
Ta'n Saualtagh ec laue
Dy choadey nyn Vannin veg veen.

Lhig dorrinyn bra
Troggal seose nyn goraa
As brishey magh ayns ard arrane
Ta nyn groink aalin glass
Yn vooir cummal ass
As coadey lught-thie as shioltane.

Nyn Ellan fo-hee
Cha boir noidyn ee
Dy bishee nyn eeastyn as grain
Nee'n Chiarn shin y reayll
Voish strieughyn yn theihll
As crooinnagh lesh shee 'n ashoon ain.

Lhig dooin boggoil bee,
Lesh annym as cree,
As croghey er gialdyn yn Chiarn;
Dy vodmayd dagh oor,
Treish teil er e phooar,
Dagh olk ass nyn anmeenyn 'hayrn.

Engelse tekst
O land of our birth,
O gem of God's earth,
O Island so strong and so fair;
Built firm as Barrule,
Thy Throne of Home Rule
Make us free as thy sweet mountain air.

When Orry, the Dane,
In Mannin did reign, 
'Twas said he had come from above; 
For wisdom from Heav'n 
To him had been giv'n 
To rule us with justice and love. 

Our fathers have told 
How Saints came of old, 
Proclaiming the Gospel of Peace; 
That sinful desires, 
Like false Baal fires, 
Must die ere our troubles can cease. 

Ye sons of the soil,
In hardship and toil,
That plough both the land and the sea,
Take heart while you can,
And think of the Man
Who toiled by the Lake Galilee.

When fierce tempests smote
That frail little boat,
They ceased at His gentle command;
Despite all our fear,
The Saviour is near
To safeguard our dear Fatherland.

Let storm-winds rejoice,
And lift up their voice,
No danger our homes can befall;
Our green hills and rocks
Encircle our flocks,
And keep out the sea like a wall.

Our Island, thus blest, No foe can molest;
Our grain and our fish shall increase;
From battle and sword Protecteth the Lord,
And crowneth our nation with peace.

Then let us rejoice
With heart, soul and voice,
And in The Lord's promise confide;
That each single hour
We trust in His power,
No evil our souls can betide.

Brits volkslied