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Meredydd Evans Y Ferch o Blwy Penderyn

[media=https://youtu.be/ApRUqX3lA-g]
Rwy'n caru merch o blwyf Penderyn ac yn ei chanlyn ers lawer dydd
Ni allwn garu ag un ferch arall er pan welais 'run gron ei grudd
Mae hi'n ddigon hawdd ei gweled er nad yw ond dyrnaid fach
Pan elo i draw i rodio'r caeau hi wna fy 'nghalon glaf yn iach
Pan o'wn i'n myned ar ryw fore yn hollol ddiflin tua'm gwaith
Mi glywn aderyn ar y brigyn yn tiwnio'n ddiwyd ac yn faith
Ac yn d'wedyd wrthyf innau Mae'r ferch wyt ti'n ei charu'n driw
Yn martsio'i chorff y bore fory tua rhyw fab arall os bydd hi byw
Rwy'n myned heno dyn am helpo i ganu ffarwel i'r seren syw
A dyna waith i'r clochydd fory fydd torri 'medd o dan yr yw
A than fy enw'n 'sgrifenedig ar y tomb wrth fôn y pren
Fy mod i'n isel iawn yn gorwedd yng ngwaelod bedd o gariad Gwen


I love a girl from the parish of Penderyn and have been following her for many days
I could not love another girl since I saw her round cheek
It is easy enough to see even though it is only a small handful
When she goes over to walk the fields she makes my sick heart healthy
When I go to work one morning completely exhausted
I hear a bird on the branch tuning diligently and at length
And you tell me that the girl you love is true
Marching her body tomorrow morning to some other son if she lives
I'm going tonight man to help sing farewell to the star
And that will be the job of the bell ringer tomorrow to break 'medd under the yw
And under my name written on the tomb at the foot of the tree
That I am very low lying at the bottom of the grave of Gwen's love


source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/angharad_rhiannon/y_ferch_o_blwy_penderyn
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Thinkerbell · 41-45, F
Things are tough all over... ☹

"Good morning, pretty maid,
Where are you going?
To range these fields so fair,
There's no man knowing,
I think too bold you are,
To range these fields so fair,
In danger everywhere,
Thou charming maiden.

A charming maid I am,
Sir, she replied.
Without any guile or care,
To no man tied;
My recreations are, to range
These fields so fair;
To take the pleasant air,
Thou boasting stranger.

A farmer's son I am,
Your nighest neighbor,
Great store of wealth I have,
By honest labour;
So if you will agree,
Soon married we will be,
For I'm in love with thee,
Thou charming maiden.

A farmer's wife must work,
Both late and early,
Like any foreign Turk,
Therefore believe me.
I don't intend to be
A servant bound to thee.
To do thy drudgery,
Thou boasting stranger."

 
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