Ceinion Conwy / Conwy’s Beautiful Banks 
Alaw/Melody: Tradd./Trad.
Geiriau/Lyrics: John Jones ‘Iota’, Llansanffraid Glan Conwy (1784 – 1874)

Er cael pleserau yng ‘ngwlad y Sais
a gweld ei ddyfais wiwber
mae gwlad yr awen geinwen gell
er hynny’n well o’r hanner.
Ei hawel iach a’i melus ddŵr
a chyflwr ei thrigolion
wrth gofio’i beirdd rhyw hiraeth draidd
drwy giliau’r wanaidd galon

braidd na ddywedwn yn ddi-wad
mai nefol wlad yw Cymru.
O, na bai ‘nhraed sengi hon
ar finion Ceinion Conwy

Mae’r Sais yn dangos im bob dydd
mewn gwir ei rydd hawddgarwch
a’r nos caf ganddo wely clyd
a digon byd o degwch
ond pan fo ‘nghorff yn huno’n ber
ar wely tyner manblu
fe gwyd fy ysbryd ac fe hed
i ‘mweled â thir Cymru

Ac wedi deffro gyda’r dydd
mor bruddaidd fydd fy nghalon,
nid daear Cymru fydd fy lle
ond canol tre’ Manceinion.
Cyn codi’r haul o’r dwyrain draw
yr ysbryd ddaw i’w lety
i brudd fyfyrio fel y bu
yng nghanol teulu Cymru

Yn nyffryn Conwy mae fy nhad
yn nghanol mad gyfeillion
ac yno bydd nes geilw Duw
ar alwad wyw farwolion.
Cael benthyg bedd wrth ystlys hwn
a wir ddymunwn innau
i orffwys nes daw’r meirw nol
o garchar ingol angau.



 

Despite having had pleasures in the Englishman’s country
and having seen his bright inventions,
the land of the stunning muse
is twice as good.
Her healthy breeze and sweet waters,
and the temperament of her people.
when I recall her bards, a longing
seeps through the nooks and crannies of my weak heart.

I can almost say with certainty
that Wales is a heavenly land,
Oh, were not my feet treading her now -
on the beautiful banks of Conwy

The Englishman shows me every day
his honesty and courtesy,
and by night I receive from him a bed
and more than enough good treatment,
but when my body rests peacefully
on a comfy feather bed,
my spirit ascends and flies away
to visit the land of Wales

And after raising with the day
my heart is so sad,
My place will not be the soil of Wales,
but the centre of Manchester town.
before the sun rises over in the East,
the spirit returns to its lodgings  
to sadly reminisce how things were
amongst Wales’ family

My father is in the Conwy valley
amongst my good friends,
and there he will be until God calls
upon the gentle dead.
To borrow a grave on those banks
is what I truly wish,
to rest until the dead return
from the woeful prison of death.