Wrth Ddyfod o’r Gŵyl Mabsant / Whilst Returning from the Parish-Wake
Alaw/Melody - 'Neithiwr ac Echnos' (Tradd./Trad.)
Geiriau/Words - Hugh Jones 'Huw Jones o Langwm' (c.1720-1782)

Wel dowch yn nes y llanciau swagar,
A chitha ferched llyged lliwgar,
Clywch hanes dau, dwi’n dweud yn bendant
A gyd-gychwynodd o’r gŵyl mabsant.
Ar draws rhyw diroedd drwy fawr dwrw
Dan garu beunydd, gwrw a banw,
A hwylio’r llaw asw i’r lle isel.
A weithiau’n gwasgu’r fwyngu feingan
Ac weithiau’n gosod ambell gusan,
A thrin yr hen degan diogel.

O Weithiau’n cerdded yn rhy arw
A weithiau’n caru yn eu cwrw,
Roedd gan y dyn rhyw geryn gwrol,
Fe god ochenaid yn ei chanol.
Bu yno’n gwingo gyda’i gangen,
Weithiau’n iachus, weithiau’n ochen,
A phopen i’r burwen yn berwi.
Nid megis dŵr ar dân naturiol
Ond berwi o chwantau cnydau cnawdol,
 A berwi drwy ganol drygioni. 

O mynd at farchnad blodau’r lili
A hithau’n gado iddo i godi,
A gweled dyffryn y trythyllwch
Lle mae hen grefydd y digrifwch.
A dweud wnaeth o i’r feinir dawel
Ei fod o’n ysu i’w rhoi hi’n isel,
Ni dd’wedodd hi air uchel o’i achos,
A toddi wnaeth yn un llymeidyn
Fel morwyn plas yn toddi menyn
Cyn myned o’r ddeuddyn i ddiddos.

Wrth gefn y stabal bu’r cytundeb,
Un yn holi a’r llall yn ateb,
I wneud y gwely’n ffeind i gychwyn,
Tynodd ei gown a’i mantell frethyn.
A hi gosododd ar y ddaear,
Rho yntau’i het dan ben y feinwar,
Roedd pawb yn bur glaear i’w glywed.
A’r ddeuddyn oedd a’u cnawd mor gynnes
Ac yn naturiol at y busnes,
A ‘chydig o fantes mi fowntied.

Wel heibio’r ddau at eu pleser nwyfus
Doi wreigan feichiog led afiachus
A hon a safodd yn ddychrynllyd
Pan gwelodd liain gwyn yn ysgwyd.
Meddyliodd hon daeth llong o rhywle
A’u bod nhw eisiau rhowlio’r hwylie
Rhag torri yno’n ddarnau rhyw ddiwrnod.
Ond pan aeth hi yn nes nes atyn’
Hi wybu’n well fel roedd y ddeuddyn
Yn chwarae ‘fo’r dernyn bob dyrnod.

Hi gerddodd ymaith ar ei gorau
Gan ddweud mai brwnt oedd torri’r chwarae,
A’r dyn wrth weithio, heb ruso’n brysur,
A gollai’r siswrn a’r gwiniadur.
Fe allai’r ddynes fynd i’w boced
Tra bu o’n trin ei gweirglodd felfed,
Mae merched yn galed ddigwilydd.
A’r ddynes sydd yn iachus eto
Os gall hi ddianc byth heb brifio,
Nid rhaid iddi wrido gan wradwydd. 

Well come closer you swaggering lads,
And you bright eyed lasses
listen to this true story about two,
That started together from the parish-wake,
Over some fields making loud noises
Courting each other, male and female,
And sailing the left hand to the low place.
and sometimes squeezing the tender gentle one
And sometimes giving some kisses
And handling the old hidden toy

Oh Sometimes walking roughly
Sometimes loving in their beer,
The man had a manly machine
That caused a moaning in her middle,
There he wiggled with his branch
Sometimes healthily, sometimes groaning
and every end of the pure lass boiling.
Not like water on natural fire
but boiling with fleshly lust
And boiling through the midst of mischief.

Oh they went to the lily flower market
And she permitting him to rise
And he saw the valley of delight
Where the old religion of jollity lies,
And he told the quiet maiden
That he was yearning to lay her down,
She didn’t say a word of opposition,
And then she melted entirely
Like a manor house maid melting butter
before both of them went to shelter.

Behind a stable they made the agreement
One enquiring and the other answering
To make up the bed fine to start,
She pulled off her gown and woollen cloak
And placed it on the floor
As he put his hat underneath the gentle lady’s head,
Anybody could have been within earshot,
And both of them, with their bodies so warm
went naturally to their business
and full ready to mount.

Well past this passionate pair
there passed a heavily pregnant woman
And she stood startled and shocked
When she saw white sheets shaking,
She thought that a ship must have come in
And that they needed to roll up the sails
Lest they rip into small pieces with time.
But when she came closer to them
she became aware that the couple
were playing and thrusting their pieces.

She walked away swiftly
Deciding that it wouldn’t be fair to interrupt the fun
but as the man was working hard
He lost his scissors and thimble.
The woman could go to his pocket
As he worked on the velveteen bush,
Some girls can be shameless indeed,
And the woman is healthy still
If she could escape without exposure
She wouldn’t need to blush with shame.