Roedd mam yn gwau yr hosan ddu
A ’nhad yn canu’n fwyn,
A phwytho roedd yr eneth gu
A’r forwyn yn pilio brwyn,
Roedd Huw yn gwneuthur clogs i’w frawd
Ond fuo ’rioed mo’i fath
A’r hogyn bach yn gwneuthur gwawd
O’r ci a’r gath.

Mam was knitting the black stocking, and Dad was singing softly, the dear girl was stitching and the maid was peeling the reeds, Huw was making clogs for his brother, the like of which was never seen, and the little boy was making fun of the dog and cat.

Cytgan:
Ac ar y tân y berwa’r uwd
A phigyn i’w droi o’i le,
Ac ambell i sglodyn o glocsan Huw
I helpu i’w wneud yn dew.

Chorus: And on the fire the porridge is bubbling, a stick to stir it, and a shaving or two from Huw’s clog to thicken it.

Mae Wil y gwas yn wag ei fol
Ac wedi llwgu’n llwyr
’Rol gweithio’n galed gyda’r drol
O fore hyd yr hwyr,
A’r forwyn fach mewn cegin oer
Yn rhynnu ac yn brudd,
Yn disgwyl Wil yng ngolau’r lloer
Ar derfyn dydd.

Will the farm-hand’s belly is empty, he is utterly famished after working hard with the cart from morning til night, and the little maid is in the cold kitchen, shivering and sad, waiting for Will by the light of the moon at the end of day.

Tros y Môr (Beyond the sea)

Tros y môr y mae fy nghalon
Tros y môr y mae f’ochneidion
Tros y môr y mae f’anwylyd
Sy’n fy meddwl i bob munud,
Sy’n fy meddwl i bob munud.

Beyond the sea lies my heart, beyond the sea are my sighs, beyond the sea is my beloved, who is in my mind every minute.

Tros y môr mae’r adar duon
Tros y môr mae’r dynion mwynion
Tros y môr mae ’pob rhinweddau
Tros y môr mae ’nghariad innau,
Tros y môr mae ’nghariad innau.

Beyond the sea are the black birds, beyond the sea are the fine men, beyond the sea are all the virtues, beyond the sea is my love too.

Pwy na charai lanc o longwr
Sy’n troi mor ysgafn ar ei sawdl
Â’i grys brith a’i necloth sidan
A’i het garleil a’i fyclau arian,
A’i het garleil a’i fyclau arian.

Who could not love a sailor lad who turns so lightly on his heel, with his speckled shirt and silk neckcloth, his Carlisle hat and silver buckles.

Dacw long yn hwylio’n hwylus
Heibio’r trwyn ac at yr ynys,
Os fy nghariad i sydd ynddi
Hwyliau sidan glas sydd arni
Hwyliau sidan glas sydd arni.

See the ship sailing easily past the headland toward the island; if my lover is on it, then her sails are of blue silk.

Lliw Gwyn Rhosyn yr Haf (White of colour as the summer rose)

Dydd da fo i ti seren olau,
Lliw gwyn rhosyn yr haf.
Tydi yw’r gywrain ferch a garaf,
Lliw gwyn rhosyn yr haf.
Wel, cau dy geg yr hen oferddyn
Y casaf erioed ar wyneb y tir!
Mi grogaf fy hun cyn dof i’th ganlyn
Mewn gair, dyna’i ti’r gwir.

‘Good day to you my shining star, white of colour as the summer rose; you are the fine girl I love, white of colour as the summer rose’
‘O shut your mouth you old waster, the most hated ever in the land! I will hang myself before I come with you; in a word, that is the truth’.

Y mae dy gusan di fanwylyd,
Lliw gwyn rhosyn yr haf
’Run fath â diliau mêl bob munud,
lliw gwyn rhosyn yr haf.
Ac felly mae dy gusan dithau
Y casaf erioed ar wyneb y tir
Yn ail i gamomile i minnau
Yr hen geg, dyna’i ti’r gwir.
‘Your kiss, my darling one, white of colour as the summer rose, is like the sweet honeycomb, white of colour as the summer rose’
‘And so is your kiss the most disgusting ever in the land, akin to camomile to me, you old big-mouth, that is the truth’.

Os wyt ti’n mynd i’m troi i heibio
Lliw gwyn rhosyn yr haf,
Wel, dyro gusan cyn ffarwelio
Lliw gwyn rhosyn yr haf.
Wel, waeth im ddeud y gwir na pheidio
Y mwynaf erioed ar wyneb y tir,
Cest ddwy o’r blaen, cei bymtheg eto
Mewn gair dyna’i ti’r gwir.

‘If you are to refuse me, white of colour as the summer rose, give me a kiss before you say farewell, white of colour as the summer rose’.
‘Well, I might as well say the truth as not, O finest ever on the face of the land, you had two before, you can have another fifteen, in a word, that is the truth’.

Trafaeliais y byd (I travelled the world)

1. Trafaeliais y byd ei hyd a’i led
A thrwodd a thros y môr
Bydd glaswellt ar fy llwybrau i
Cyn delwyf i Gymru nôl.

I travelled the world, its length and breadth, and through and across the sea,
there will be grass over my paths before I return to Wales’.

Cyn delwyf i Gymru nôl
Cyn delwyf i Gymru nôl
Bydd glaswellt ar fy llwybrau i
Cyn delwyf i Gymru nôl.

before I return to Wales, before I return to Wales, there will be grass over my paths before I return to Wales’.

2. Ffarwel i Ynys Enlli
Ffarwel St. Tudwals’ Road
Ffarwel i dre’ Pwllheli
Lle mae’r genod tlysa’n bod

Farewell to Bardsey Island, Farewell St. Tudwal’s Road, farewell to Pwllheli town, where the girls are the prettiest ever.

Lle mae’r genod tlysa’n bod
Lle mae’r genod tlysa’n bod
Ffarwel i dre’ Pwllheli
lle mae’r genod tlysa’n bod.
where the girls are the prettiest ever, where the girls are the prettiest ever , farewell to Pwllheli town, where the girls are the prettiest ever.

3. Ffarwel i drwyn Penychain
Ffarwel i’r Afonwen
Ffarwel i gastell Cricieth
Sydd â pholyn ar ei ben.

Sydd â pholyn ar ei ben….

Farewell to Penychain Point, farewell to Afonwen, farewell to Cricieth Castle, with a pole on top…

4. Ffarwel i Bencaenewydd
Mi’th gofiaf ar y môr
Ffarwel i hen chwareuon llon
A’r canu yn y côr.

A’r canu yn y côr…
Farewell to Pencaenewydd, I will remember you at sea, farewell to the happy games, and the singing in the choir…

5. Ffarwel i Mot a Pero
Rwy’n cychwyn ar fy nhaith
I hwylio draw i’r gwledydd pell
Dros donnau’r moroedd maith

Dros donnau’r moroedd maith…

Farewell to Mot and Pero, I’m starting on my journey, to sail to the far away lands, over the waves of the great oceans…

Gwenno Tir Mawn (lit. Gwenno of the land of the peat)

Ymhell ar y mynydd yng nghanol y brwyn
Cynefin bugeiliaid a hafod yr wyn,
Mae llannerch ddiarffordd yn heddwch y twyn
Ac yno mewn bwthyn hen ffasiwn to cawn
Mae aelwyd gysurus gan Gwenno Tir Mawn.

Far away on the mountain, among the reeds, abode of the shepherds and home of the lambs, there is an out-of-the-way spot amid the silence, and there in an old-fashioned thatched cottage Gwenno Tir Mawn has her homely hearth.

Nid oes yno lawnder na braster y byd
Ac anodd cael deupen y llinyn ynghyd
A’i ffedog liw’r galchen yn daclus ei phryd
Rhyw drotian o gwmpas o fore hyd nawn
Yn ysgafn ei chalon wna Gwenno Tir Mawn
There is no abundance or worldly affluence there, and it’s difficult to make both ends meet, her white apron so neat, she trots away from morn to night, light of heart, does Gwenno Tir Mawn.

Os prin ydyw’r moethau a’r dodrefn yn blaen
Mae’r ford yn y gegin heb arni ystaen
A’r hen gwpwrdd deuddarn yn batrwm o raen,
Pe chwiliech bob cornel, rwy’n gwybod yn iawn
Fod popeth cyn laned â’r aur yn Nhir Mawn.

If the luxuries are few and the furniture bare, the table in the kitchen is spotless, and the old two-piece cupboard well polished, if you searched every nook and cranny, I know you would find that everything sparkles like gold in Tir Mawn.

Mae’n wir fod arwyddion o’r hwyrnos yn cau
Ei llais yn grynedig a’i chlyw yn trymhau
A’r droed fu mor heini yn araf lesgau
Ond pe galwn i heibio, rwy’n sicr y cawn
Lond aelwyd o groeso gan Gwenno Tir Mawn.

It’s true there are signs that night is closing in, her voice is trembling and her hearing failing, and the feet that were so light are slowing down, but if I call by, I know that I would get a houseful of welcome from Gwenno Tir Mawn.

Y Sgwner Tri Mast (The three-masted schooner)

Lle mae’r llongau bach fu gynt yn nofio’r dyfner
Ar Bwll Pen-yr-Allt tan gomand hen longwyr Llyn?
Mor bwysig gan bawb oedd bob smac a phob sgwner,
A’r sgwner tri mast oedd yn ben ar bob un.

Where are the little ships that used to sail the deep on Pen-yr-Allt Pool, under the command of the old sailors of Llyn? So valued by all was each smack and each schooner, and the three-masted schooner the chief amongst them.

Mor gadarn oedd hon, mor wynion oedd ei hwylia
Wrth sleifio o’r cei roedd rhyw urddas ar ei hyd,
Yn gwyro drwy’r awel yn llithro drwy’r tonna
A’i chwrs am ryw harbwr ym mhen pella’r byd.

She was so strong, her sails so white, as she slid from the quay she was full of dignity, bending through the breeze, gliding through the waves, her course bound for some harbour on the other side of the world.

Edrychwn ar hon a’i balchder ar y dyfroedd
Mi glywn lais y capten, mi welwn bawb o’r criw
A phan ddôi yr awel yn gref dros y moroedd
Mewn breuddwyd mi roddwn fy llaw ar y llyw.
I watched her, proud on the waters, I heard the captain’s voice, I saw all the crew, and when the strong breeze came over the sea, in a dream I placed my hand on the helm.

Diflannodd y tai, ni welwn fynydd Nefyn
Nid Pwll Pen-yr-Allt oedd y dyfroedd ond y môr,
Nid pabwyr a welwn ar dorlan gyferbyn
Ond palmwydd urddasol ar draeth Singapôr.

The houses disappeared, I could not see Nefyn mountain, the waters were not Pen-yr-Allt Pool, but the ocean, and it was not the reeds I saw on the opposite bank, but the stately palms on the beach of Singapore.

Hen sgwner tri mast cawn eto godi angor
Cawn osod dy hwylia a chwiban am y gwynt
Dos eto mewn urddas i hwylio y cefnor
A thro eto adra a’th drysor fel cynt.

Old three-masted schooner, we can again raise the anchor, we can set the sails and whistle in the wind, go forth once again to sail the ocean with pride, and return as before with your treasure.

Hen Benillion (Old verses)

Llawer gwaith y bu fy mwriad
Gael telynor i mi’n gariad
Gan felysed swn y tanne
Gyda’r hwyr a chyda’r bore.

Many times was my intention to have a harpist as a lover, so sweet was the sound of the strings, evening and morning.

Llun y Delyn llun y tannau
Llun cyweirgorn aur yn droeau,
Dan ei fysedd o na fasai
Llun fy nghalon union innau.

Image of the harp, image of strings, image of a golden tuning key turning, under his fingers O! were not the image of my heart as well.

Mwyn yw peraidd leisiau’r adar
Ar y clyw ar fore claear,
Gwell gen i yw clywed englyn
Mewn aceniad gyda’r delyn.

Sweet is the sound of birdsong on my ear on a cool morning, but better still is to hear an ‘englyn’ in unison with the harp.

Gwych gan gerlyn yn ei wely
Glywed swn y droell yn nyddu,
Gwell gen inna’, dyn â’m helpo
Glywed swn y tannau’n tiwnio.

A waster in his bed likes to hear the sound of the spinning-wheel, but I prefer, so help me, the sound of strings.

Telyn aur a thelyn arian
Telyn bren a thelyn sidan
Ar ôl enwi’r holl delynau
Fy nhelyn i yw’r delyn orau.

A golden harp, a silver harp, a wooden harp and a silken harp, but after naming all the harps, my harp is the best harp.

Paid â Deud (Do not tell)

Os yw’th galon bron a thorri
Paid â deud,
Am fod serch dy fron yn oeri
Paid â deud.
Ac os chwalu mae dy obeithion
Paid â deud,
Ni ddaw neb i drwsio’th galon
Er it ddeud.

If your heart is near breaking, do not tell, and the love in your breast is cooling, do not tell. And if your hopes are being shattered, do not tell, no-one will come to mend your heart, even if you tell.

Pan fo stormydd byd yn gwgu
Paid â deud,
A gelynion am dy faeddu
Paid â deud.
Ac os weithiau byddi’n llwyddo
Paid â deud,
Hawdd i’th lwydd fynd drwy dy ddwylo
Wrth it ddeud.

When the world’s storms are threatening, do not tell, and enemies want to harm you, do not tell. And if sometimes you succeed, do not tell, success can so easily slip through your hands, if you tell.