CANWR GWERIN CYMRAEG
WELSH FOLK SINGER
Anogaeth i Bawb Feindio ei Fusnes ei Hunan / Encouragement to All to Mind their Own Business
Alaw/Melody - 'Vulcan's Cave' (Tradd./Trad.)
Geiriau/Words - Richard Williams 'Dic Dywyll' (c.1810-c.1860)
Gwrandewch yn awr y Cymry cu
Mae cân ryfeddol genyf fi
Nid yw’n un sen i’r Dynion sydd
Yn meindio eu busnes eu hunain,
Ond rhoddi clod i’r rhain yn rhwydd
A’u mwynder llon, a maint eu llwydd
Fel dêl pob dyn i garu’r swydd
Sef meindio eu busnes eu hunain.
Yn llwyr ar daith aeth llawer dyn
Mewn osgo’n dost yn wysg ei din
Am iddo lwyr anghofio’i hun,
Mae’n arw’i nâd dan blaned flin.
A llawer Cymro yn ein gŵydd
A ddaeth ymlaen trwy lawen lwydd
Mae’n dweud ‘cysurus ydyw’r swydd
Sef meindio fy musnes fy hunan’.
‘Dwin’n cofio Ned a Bet y Big
A Siôn y brain mab Siân y brig
Fu’n dywed i’r Exciseman dig
Fod liquor snuggle ym Melin-y-Wig.
Yn awr mae pawb i’w herbyn hwy,
Ni chant byth barch mewn llan na phlwy,
Ni choelir chwaith mo’r celwydd mwy,
Gwell meindio eu busnes eu hunain.
Fe grogwyd llawer Cymro cu
O achos hyll ddrygioni hy
Allasai fod yn cadw tÅ·
Wrth feindio ei fusnes ei hunan,
A llawer un aeth tros y môr
I Botany Bay oddi wrth ei stôr
Am feindio gwagedd yn ddidor
Yn well na’i fusnes ei hunan.
‘Dwi’n cofio Mal a Gai heb gêl,
Dau bentwr dwl o Bant y Dêl,
Â’r dannedd mawr fu’n dwyn y mêl
Nes aeth y ddau lob yn job i’r jêl.
Ac yn y ddalfa, brwnt a breg,
Fe’u chwipiwyd wrth y gyfraith deg,
Gwell ‘tasai’r carpiau mawr eu ceg
‘Di meindio eu busnes eu hunain.
‘Run fath a Wil y Felin fawr
Fu’n dwyn ymenyn o’r Cae Mawr,
Cadd hwnw’i leinio’n dost ar lawr
Gan un o feibion Guto Gawr.
Roedd yno’n gruddfan mewn oer gri
A Ned yn curo ei gwman gi,
Ac yntau’n gweiddi ‘gwell ‘swn i
‘Di meindio fy musnes fy hunan’.
​
Mae Llawer iawn mae’n hyll y nod
 ch’wilydd byd yw dweud eu bod
O wragedd rhwydd o dan y rhod
Heb feindio eu busnes eu hunain.
Ond hel ystraeon hyd y tai,
Ac ar gymdogion gwelant fai,
A hwythau ar hynt yn waethaf rhai
Am feindio eu busnes eu hunain.
Fel Siani Green â sangai graig
A Morfudd Rhys, merch Mari’r ddraig
Fu yn Plas isa’n bwyta saig
Am yrru’r gŵr i guro’r wraig.
Ca’dd honno’i guro’n arw wir
O achos celwydd, och y cur,
Fe ddylsai bawb ar fôr a thir
Feindio eu busnes eu hunain.
A Thwm yr heliwr ar ei hynt
Fu’n caru Gwen o Fwlch-y-Gwynt,
Beichiogodd hon fel canoedd gynt,
Bydd eto’n ddrwg, mi ddaliaf bunt.
Hi dwng y plentyn arno, mi wn,
A hyn fydd beunydd iddo’n bwn,
Wel, meddwch chi, nad gwell ‘sa hwn
‘Di meindio ei fusnes ei hunan.
Pob dull sy’n bod o dwyllo’r byd,
Nod hyll o’i go’ sy’n deillio i gyd
O eisio i ddynion bryntion bryd
Feindio eu busnes eu hunain.
A’r trethi trymion sydd ger bron
Yn gwasgu ar Gymru lwysgu lon,
Ddaeth am na b’asai’r deyrnas hon
Yn meindio ei busnes ei hunan.
Ni f’asai rhyfel mawr erioed
Na dim o’r ffasiwn beth yn bod,
Na llosgi trefi clir eu clod
Na gwae na gwg na drwg ar droed,
Na threth ar geffyl nac ar gi,
Na mochyn chwaith os coeliwch chi,
Pe b’asai’n holl hynafiaid ni
‘Di meindio eu busnes eu hunain.
Nid âi’r cyfoethog mewn un man
I draws-othrymu a gwasgu’r gwan,
Na ‘sbeilio ‘run tylawd o’i ran
‘Run fath a’r lleidr sy’ werth y llan.
Darfyddai gwaith y beili mawr
A’r twrnai boliog, gwibiog wawr
Pe bai pob dyn o fach i fawr
Yn meindio eu busnes eu hunain.
​
Nid rhaid i’r un o’r llanciau llon
Wrth garu marched y wlad hon
Fyth ofni gwasgu braf ei bron
Ond meindio eu busnes eu hunain.
A ch’ithau’r merched rhwydd yn rhes,
Gall mwynder llanc ymendio’ch lles
Ond i chi gofio, deuliw’r tes,
Am feindio eich busnes eich hunan.
Wrth fynd i ffwrdd o’r ffair ar ffo
Yng nghwmni’ch cariad ambell dro,
Wel cofiwch, cadwch yn eich co’
Rhag bod yn llaeth i’r gwyneb llo.
Gochelwch drin y chwarae bach
Rhag mynd yn sbort i’r un hen wrach
A chym’rwch ofal o’r wichi wach
Gan feindio eich busnes eich hunan.
Mae llawer merch a fu’n rhy fwyn
Yn gwasgu llanc dan gysgod llwyn
Yn awr yn chwyddo’n oer ei chwyn
A’i bol bron trawo c’uwch a’i thrwyn.
A’r llanc yn sori yn ddileshad
O’i fodd y tyng, ni fydd yn dad,
Wel cofiwch ferched a llanciau’r wlad
Am feindio eich busnes eich hunan.
Listen now beloved Welshmen and women,
I have a remarkable song
That’s no insult to those people
Who mind their own business,
But to praise these people with ease,
their jolly gentleness and the sum of their success,
As men do come to love the role
Of minding their own business.
Many a man has gone down a bad path,
awkwardly and arse first,
because he forgot himself,
His cry is coarse under a bad sign.
Whilst many a Welshman in our presence
Have gotten on in jolly success,
Proclaiming - “This is a cheerful business -
This ‘minding your own business“.
I remember Ned and pointy Bet
And John the crows, son of Jane the twigs,
That told the bitter exiseman
That there was smuggled liquor in Melin-Y-Wig.
Now, everyone has turned against them,
They’ll never gain respect in church or parish,
And no one trusts their lies anymore,
it’s better to mind your own business.
Many a dear Welshman has been hanged
Because of cocky ugly mischief,
Who could otherwise have owned a house
If only they’d’ve minded their own business.
And many have been sent overseas
To Botany Bay away from their store
Because, never-endidly, they minded wealth
Better than their own business.
It’s well I remember Mal and Gai,
Two stupid lumps from Pant-y-del,
With greedy teeth, that stole honey
‘Till the two lobs went straight to jail.
And in that dirty prison
They were whipped under the just law,
T’ould’ve been better if the big mouth’d rags
would have minded their own business.
Like Will of the big-mill
That stole butter from Cae Mawr,
He was beaten down hard
By one of Guto the giant’ sons.
There he was, moaning and groaning,
And ned striking his hunchbacked dog
Shouting – “I should have
Minded my own business”.
​
It’s an ugly fact to note,
many are ashamed to say
that they are easy wives under the sun
That don’t mind their own business.
They gossip between the houses
and lay the blame on their neighbours,
Whilst they themselves are the worse ones
For minding their own business.
Like Jenny Green that treads the crags
And Morfydd Rhys daughter of Mary the dragon,
That got away with stealing a meal in Plas Isa’
After sending the master to beat his wife!
She got beaten badly indeed
All because of dirty lies, Oh the horror.
Everyone on sea and land
Should mind their own business.
And Tom the hunter in his way
Was courting Gwen from Bwlwch-y-Gwynt.
He made her pregnant, like hundreds before,
This’ll turn out bad, I’ll bet you a pound.
She laid the child upon him
And this was a burden for him everyday,
I’m sure you’ll all agree, it would have been better
If he had minded his own business.
Every way there is to chweat on this earth,
mad and ugly ambition is what causes it,
lest dirty men
Mind their own business.
And heavy taxes is upon us,
sqeezing lovely Wales,
It all falls upon us, just because this kingdom
Doesn’t mind it’s own business.
There would never have been a war,
Nor anything of that nature would have occurred,
Nor bright and honorable cities being burnt
Nor suffering or anger or evil at work,
Nor tax on a horse or a dog,
Nor on a pig, believe you me,
If only all our ancestors
Would have minded their own business.
The rich wouldn’t go around
Sqeezing and frauding the weak,
Nor pilaging from the poor,
Like the robber who’s on the church’s money.
The great bailey’s work would cease,
And that of the big fat attorney,
If all men, big and small,
Would mind their own business.
​
None of the jolly lads,
Whilst courting the girls of this country,
Would have to worry about squeezing their breasts,
If only they minded their own business.
And you generous girls in a row,
The kindness of a lad could mend your woes,
If you only remember, mark my words,
To mind your own business.
When leaving the fair
In the company of a lover some time,
Remember, keep it in mind,
Not to be milk to a calf’s mouth.
Refrain from triksy business
So’s not to become the which’s jester,
And take care not to squeak
Whilst minding your own business.
There’s many a girl that’s been too generous,
Squeezing a lad in the shadow of the bush,
Who’s now groaning coldly,
Her belly almost reaching her nose!
And the lad is full of regret,
Swearing that he won’t be a father,
Well remember lasses and lads of the country
To mind your own business.