Bythod Cymru

O lwydion Fythod Cymru!
  Sy'n llechu is y llwyn!
Er bod heb furiau mynor,
  A'u tô yn wellt neu frwyn;
O'u mewn mae llawer angel
  Yn hoffi troi ei ben,
I syllu mewn gorfoledd
  Ar etifeddion nen.

O dirion Fythod Cymru!
  O'u mewn ar doriad gwawl,
Ac yn y coed a'u hamgylch
  Y plethir odlau mawl;
Y feinir gân yn gynar,
  A'r adar gyda hi,
Eu diolch-gerdd foreuol
  Am râd eu Nefol Ri.

O anwyl Fythod Cymru!
  Ni fedd un wlad eu hail, -
Na lygrer eu haelwydydd,
  Na sigler byth eu sail!
Byth, byth, mor ber a'r blodau
  Sy'n gwisgo siriol wên,
Ar fryn a dôl o'u deutu,
  Bo Bythod Cymru hen.

gwelir: O dlysion fythod Cymru

O grey Cottages of Wales,
  Who lurk under the grove,
Although without walls of marble,
  And their roofs straw or reeds;
From within them is many and angel
  Loving to turn his head,
To stare in jubilation
  On the heirs of heaven.

O tender Cottages of Wales,
  From within at the break of dawn,
And in the wood around them
  Are woven the verses of praise;
The lass who sings early,
  And the birds with her
Their morning thanksgiving poem
  For the grace of their heavenly Lord.

O dear Cottages of Wales,
  No land possesses their equal, -
Their hearths shall not decay,
  Their foundation shall not be shaken!
Never, ever, so sweet as the flowers
  That are wearing a cheerful smile,
On hill and meadow about them,
  Be the Cottages of old Wales.