Hop-tu-Naa - Songs - The Hop-tu-Naa Song

The Hop-tu-Naa Song

Hop-tu-Naa in Manx Hop-tu-Naa in English
Shoh shenn oie Houiney; Hop-tu-naa This is old Sauin night; Hop-tu-naa
T'an eayst soilshean; Trol-la-laa. The moon shines bright; Trol-la-laa.
Kellagh ny kiarkyn; Hop-tu-naa. Cock of the hens; Hop-tu-naa
Shibber ny gauin; Trol-la-laa. Supper of the heifer; Trol-la-laa.
'Cre'n gauin marr mayd ? Hop-tu-naa. Which heifer shall we kill? Hop-tu-naa
Yn gauin veg vreac. Trol-la-laa. The little speckled heifer. Trol-la-laa.
Yn chione kerroo, Hop-tu-naa. The fore-quarter, Hop-tu-naa
Ver mayd 'sy phot diu; Trol-la-laa. We'll put in the pot for you. Trol-la-laa.
Yn kerroo veg cooyl, Hop-tu-naa. The little hind quarter, Hop-tu-naa
Cur dooin, cur dooin. Trol-la-laa. Give to us, give to us. Trol-la-laa.
Hayst mee yn anvroie, Hop-tu-naa. I tasted the broth, Hop-tu-naa
Scoald mee my hengey, Trol-la-laa. I scalded my tongue, Trol-la-laa.
Ro'e mee gys y chibber, Hop-tu-naa. I ran to the well, Hop-tu-naa
As diu mee my haie, Trol-la-laa. And drank my fill; Trol-la-laa.
Er my raad thie, Hop-tu-naa. On my way back, Hop-tu-naa
Veeit mee kayt-vuitsh; Trol-la-laa. I met a witch cat; Trol-la-laa.
Va yn chayt-scryssey, Hop-tu-naa. The cat began to grin, Hop-tu-naa
As ren mee roie ersooyl. Trol-la-laa. And I ran away. Trol-la-laa.
Cre'n raad ren oo roie Hop-tu-naa. Where did you run to? Hop-tu-naa
Roie mee gys Albin. Trol-la-laa. I ran to Scotland. Trol-la-laa.
Cred v'ad jannoo ayns shen ? Hop-til-naa What were they doing there? Hop-til-naa
Fuinney bonnagyn as rostey sthalgyn. Trol-la-laa. Baking bannocks and roasting collops. Trol-la-laa.
Hop-tu-naa, Trol-la-laa. Hop-tu-naa, Trol-la-laa


My ta shiu goll dy chur red erbee dooin, cur dooin tappee eh,
Ny vees mayd ersooyl liorish soilshey yn cayst
Hop-tu-naa, Trol-la-laa.


If you are going to give us anything, give it us soon,
Or we'll be away by the light of the moon.
Hop-tu-naa, Trol-la-laa.

Read more about this topic:  Hop-tu-Naa, Songs

Famous quotes containing the word song:

    You praised and knew
    the song they made was worthless
    and the note,
    they sung
    was dross.
    Hilda Doolittle (1886–1961)