From a collection of cards by local artist Dorcas Costain-Blann
Shrouded oft in mist and rain, swept by gales and tides, Steeped in magic old as time, the ancient island bides.
There seabirds cry above the cliffs, and in its secret caves, the seals rest, then in blink, are gone beneath the waves.
In sunlight how the island shines! Its peaks rise clear and proud, the stones of quartz reflect the light, beneath the fleeting cloud.
Surrounded by the sparkling sea, green hills with gorse aglow, white gleam the lighthouses, so too the waves on rocks below
And fluttering at its centre, on Tynwald hill aspan, a sight thats dear to Manxmen near and far, the brave Three Legs of Man!





