The Blackbird
Dear blackbird, I'll list why thou singest,
My harp for awhile shall be still;
The host of sweet thoughts that thou bringest
My soul must with melody fill.
The minstrel from childhood has known thee
He ever was cheer'd by thy voice; 
And still as a friend he will own thee,
Who calls on his heart to rejoice.

The minstrel may oft sing of gladness,
But never all of joy is his song,
There still are old mem'ries of sadness,
Which flow with his music along.
While thou has no thought of forgetting
The griefs of a long dreary past,
Thou sing'st but of joy, nought regretting,
Rejoicing thou sing'st the last.

Y Fwyalchen
O gwrando, y beraidd fwyalchen,
Clyw edn mwyn serchog liw du;
A ei di yn gennad heb oedi
At ferch f�m i'n caru mor gu?
A dywed mal hyn wrth liw'r manod,
O'i chariad rwy'n barod i'r bedd;
A 'mywyd ar soddi sy'n gorffwys
Ar ddwylo'r un geinlwys eigwedd.

Mae'n dda mod i'n galed fy nghalon,
Lliw blodau drain gwynion yr allt;
Mae'n dda mod i'n ysgafn fy meddwl
Lliw'r banadl melyn ei gwallt.
Mae'n dda 'mod i'n ieuanc'r, wy'n gwybod
Heb arfer fawr drafod y byd;
Pam peidiaist ti ferch � mhriodi
A finnau'n dy ganlyn di cyd?