‘Twas many hundred years ago
When on the Isle the mist hung low,
And Little People ruled the land,
A boat was wrecked on Mona’s strand.
The fishermen were washed ashore,
And cold and weary, stiff and sore,
They, resting on the barren rocks,
Kindled a spark from tinder-box.
And as sprang up their feeble light
They witnessed an impressive sight;
The cloak of mist rolled up the hill,
And all the air grew calm and still.
And there before their awe-struck eyes
They saw a flaming spindle rise;
A rounding wheel that scaled the height
Formed of three legs in crazy flight.
And so they climbed till it was day
Then for deliverance knelt to pray,
They knew a sign had been revealed,
So took this vision for their shield.
And ever since, so legend begs,
The Arms of Mann have been Three Legs;
Whatever storms may shake the land
The Manxman on Three Legs will stand.
Mona’s Herald 25.2.64