Yr Aberth Mawr

O'i wlad aeth i warchffos lom
    - Ewrob erch,
Lle mae'r byd yn storom;
A'i waed gwin yn y drin drom
Ni waharddai hwn erddom.

From his land he went to the trench of soil
    - hideous Europe,
Where the world is a storm;
And his blood of wine in the heavy battle
He would not withhold this for our sake.

From his land to the trench of soil
    - grim Europe,
Where the world's all turmoil;
His wine-red blood in battle's toil
Withheld not for the sake of us all.