Pob teithiwr, fel gŵr geirwir, -
    ni 'mwrthyd
  A MARTHA, tra'i ceffir;
  Hon a gwyd ei bwyd a'i bîr
  Yn ddidoll, fe ddywedir.

Un ni syrth yn mhyrth MARTHA -
    y'ch OWEN,
  Maent wych eu sefyllfa;
  Rhoed i hon ddigon o dda
  I gynnal y rhai gwàna'.

Llŷs Sior ni bu n'rhagorach -
    ei gawgiau,
  Na'i gegin ddim llawnach;
  Gwilia, fel na b'o gwaelach
  Y'mhorth y bedd, MARTHA bach.

Dy grefydd bydded gryfach -
    ei hanian,
  A hono'n ddisothach;
  Arwyddion tymoreiddiach
  Y'mhorth y bedd, MARTHA bach.

Nid un am wneuthur camwedd -
    yw MARTHA,
  Ymwrthyd â llygredd;
  Da elw yw rhag dialedd,
  MARTHA bach, ymhorth y bedd.

Moethau mîn, a gwin ddigonedd, -
    gefaist
  I'th gafael yn rhyfedd;
  Gwylia er mwyn ymgeledd,
  MARTHA bach, y'mhorth y bedd.

Every traveller, like a truthful man, -
    would not refuse
  MARTHA, while she was to be had;
  She who raises her food and her beer
  Interestingly, it is said.

No-one shall fall in the gates of MARTHA -
    ye are OWEN,
  They are of brilliant standing;
  Let it give to her enough stock
  To support the weakest.

The court of George was not more plentiful -
    its dishes,
  Nor its kitchen any fuller;
  Retreat, like there were no poorer
  In the gate of the grave, little MARTHA.

May thy belief be stronger -
    its nature,
  And this without dross;
  More temperate signs
  In the gate of the grave, little MARTHA.

Not one for making a mistake -
    is MARTHA,
  Rejecting corruption;
  A good reward it is against retribution,
  Little MARTHA, in the gate of the grave.

Sharp luxuries, and wine of sufficiency -
    thou didst get
  To thy grasp wonderfully;
  Watch, for the sake of succour,
  Little MARTHA, in the gate of the grave.