In the water I was the spume.
I was a sponge in the fire.
I was a scrub in the covert.
I am one who does not sing;
I sang, though I was little,
at the battle of the Scrub-shoots,
against Britain’s Ruler
and the Irish shits,
a rich-laden fleet.
I speared the bejewelled beast,
which had a hundred heads;
with seeds of great trouble
under the root of his tongue;
and another seed
at the base of his skull.
Also the cloven-footed black toad,
armed with a hundred claws.
And the crested speckled snake–
the soul, through her sin,
will be punished in the flesh.

Yn dwfyr yn ewyn.
Bum yspwg yn tan.
Bum gwyd yngwarthan.
Nyt mi wyf ny gan
Keint yr yn bychan.
Keint ygkat godeu bric.
Rac prydein wledic.
Gweint veirch canholic.
Llyghessoed meuedic.
Gweint mil mawrein.
Arnaw yd oed canpen.
A chat er dygnawt.
Dan von y tauawt.
A chat arall yssyd
Yn y wegilyd.
Llyffan du gaflaw.
Cant ewin arnaw.
Neidyr vreith gribawc.
Cant eneit trwy bechawt
Aboenir yny chnawt.