Fy Ngwlad, gan Gerallt Lloyd Owen (1969)

Wylit, wylit, Lywelyn
Wylit waed pe gwelit hyn.
Ein calon gan estron ŵr,
Ein coron gan goncwerwr,
A gwerin o ffafrgarwyr
Llariaidd eu gwên lle'r oedd gwŷr.

Fe rown wên i'r Frenhiniaeth,
Nid gwerin nad gwerin gaeth.
Byddwn daeog ddiogel
A dedwydd iawn, doed a ddêl,
Heb wraidd na chadwynau bro,
Heb ofal ond bihafio.

Ni'n twyllir hyn hir gan au
Hanesion rhyw hen oesau.
Y ni o gymedrol nwyd
Yw'r dynion a Brydeiniwyd,
Ni yw'r claear wladgarwyr,
Eithafol ryngwladol wŷr.

Fy ngwlad, fy ngwlad, cei fy nghledd
Yn wridog dros d'anrhydedd.
O gallwn, gallwn golli
Y gwaed hwn o'th blegid di.

You would weep, weep, Llywelyn
Weep blood if you could see this.
Our heart owned by a foreign man,
Our crown owned by a conqueror,
And a people of favour-seekers,
Meek their smiles where once were men.

We’ll give a smile to the monarchy,
Neither people nor a people captive.
We’ll be careful peasants
And happy, come what may,
Without roots or chains to our land,
Without a care but to behave.

We are not fooled this long by their
Stories of some ancient times.
The us of temperate passions
Are the men who were made British,
We are the tepid patriots,
Extremely international men.

My country, my country, have my sword,
Reddened over your honour,
Oh we could, we could lose
This blood because of you.