Dri Phenill i Dreffynon

Clyw Brydain, Brydain, mawr yw'th fri,
  A'th gerddi teg a gwyrddion;
Er maint dy rîn, daeth blin iawn bla
  I Gwalia ar drigolion. -
O Arglwydd! (doeth yw'th 'w'llys di,)
  Na phoena ni'n Nhreffynon.

Na ddoed i'n gwlad na brad na briw,
  Mawr lwydd i'w hardalyddion,
Mewn mawredd byd,
    a myrdd o barch,
  B'o i diddwl Farchnadyddion;
Ei lles yn awr 'wyllysiwn i,
  A ffyniant i Dreffynon.

Boed llwydd
    a rhâd mewn cariad coeth
  I'w gwiw-ddoeth Gymreigyddion,
A'i holl Fasnachwyr f'o'n ddi nych,
  Fel dewr-wych heirdd Frodorion;
Ac o wir serch y cenais i
  Dri phennill i Dreffynon.

Hear, Britain, Britain, great is thy renown,
  And thy fair and green gardens;
Despite thy merit, a very grievous plague came
  To Wales on inhabitants. -
O Lord (wise is thy will,)
  Do not pain us in Treffynon!

Let not treachery nor hurt come to our land,
  Great prosperity to its regions,
In the world's majesty,
    and a myriad of reverence,
  Be its keen Merchants;
Its benefit now I would wish,
  And success to Treffynon.

May there be prosperity
    and favour in refined love
  To its worthy-wise Welsh people,
And all its Merchants be without grief,
  Like brave-brilliant noble Citizens;
And from true affections I sang
  Three verses for Treffynnon.