I’m in the mood to sing you a song,
Come closer all you jokers,
A song of praise to the drink like fire
That’s made from Tryweryn’s water
Where is the glory that once was,
Dear people of Wales, It’s gone away

There’s nothing better for a man
Than a tipple of Tryweryn’s water

This was a drink that was second to none
for curing all diseases,
Better than any herbal drink
To resurrect the poorly,
Fron-goch was equal to any Spa
to treat your ailments, Cheers to that!

It used to be, in the good old times,
That the drink was drunk and praised,
But the winds of change were blowing
The curse of Methodism came!
So now, we don’t have the right
To sing the praises of the devil’s water

You mean Calvinistic Methodists,
Why were you so cruel?
Refusing to give this holy medicine
To weak and thirsty men.
There will be reformations across the country!
Yes there will! When we get our freedom!