1. Ym Mhalas Llwyn Onn gynt
Fe drigai pendefig,
Efe oedd ysgwier
Ac arglwydd y wlad.
Ac iddo un eneth
A anwyd yn unig,
A hi 'n ôl yr hanes
Oedd aeres ei thad.
Aeth cariad i'w gweled,
Yn lân yn phur lencyn,
Ond codai'r ysgwier
Yn afar ac erch
I saethu'r bachgennyn,
Ond gwyrodd ei linyn
A'i ergyd yn wyrgam
I fynwes ei ferch.

2. Rhy hwyr ydoedd galw
I saeth at y llinyn,
A'r llances yn marw
Yn welw a gwan.
Bygythiodd ei gleddyf,
Trwy galon y llencyn,
Ond ni redai cariad
Un fodfedd o'r fan.
Roedd Golud, ei "darpar,"
Yn hên ac anynad,
A geiriau diweddaf
Yr aeres hardd hon
Oedd "Gwell gennyf farw
Trwy ergyd fy nghariad
Na byw gyda Golud
Ym Mhalas Llwyn Onn."

1. In the grand Ash Grove Palace,
There lived a bold chieftain
And he was a squire
And ruler of the land.
He had a fair daughter
With many to court her
But none would she take for
To give up her hand,
Save her sweetheart, so handsome,
So poor but of pure heart;
Her father unwilling,
And threatening the worst,
Did shoot at the lad,
But the bowstring was twisted
So crooked the arrow
Struck deep in her breast.

2. Too late to recall the
Dart back to the bowstring,
The poor girl lay dying,
So mournful and sad.
In anger, the squire,
His sword at the ready,
Did thrust at the heart of
The unflinching lad.
Oh, Wealth is a master,
So old and so peevish,
And from its cruel clutches
She desperately strove.
"'Tis better to die by
My own lover's side
Than to live in sorrow
In the Palace Ash Grove."

1. The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly 'tis speaking,
The wind through it playing has language for me.
Whenever the light through its branches is breaking
A host of kind faces is gazing on me.
The friends of my childhood again are before me,
Each step wakes a memory as freely I roam.
With soft whispers laden its leaves rustle o'er me,
The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home.

2. My lips smile no more, my heart loses its lightness,
No dream of my future my spirit can cheer;
I only can brood on the past and its brightness,
The dead I have mourned are again living here.
From ev'ry dark nook they press forward to meet me;
I lift up my eyes to the broad leafy dome,
And others are there looking downward to greet me;
The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home.

1. |: Sir Watkin intending, the morning befriending,
      Through woodlands descending, to hunt the wild deer, :|
Now slumb'ring of course, sir, and proud of his force, sir,
Dreams of his bay horse, sir, begins his career;
And forth as he sallies, up hills and down valleys,
Around him he rallies a train like a peer.

2. |: His hunter goes featly, his stag-hounds run fleetly,
      The bugle sounds sweetly; they raise a fat doe. :|
Now turning and winding, then losing, then finding,
No obstacle minding, still forward they go.
All danger subduing, impatient pursuing,
With ardour renewing, yet ever too slow.

3. |: Deep woods lay before them, now soon closing o'er them,
      The knight to explore them, dismounting, moves on. :|
There found the doe lying, bemoaning and crying,
As if she were dying, behind a grey stone.
When stopping to raise her, before the dogs seize her,
As brisk as a bee, sir, away she was gone!

4. |: With whoop and with hollo, his merry men follow,
      She skims like a swallow, and flies like the wind. :|
Sir Watkyn, however, who quits the chase never,
Swam over a river, and left them behind.
The day was fast closing, his way he was losing,
The road was so 'posing, no path could he find.

5. |: A castle high frowning, the lofty rock crowning,
      Dim twilight embrowning, hung over his head. :|
And thitherward bending, with steps slow ascending,
The courser attending, he cautiously led.
Now darkness o'ertaking, and crags there was breaking,
He fell, --- and awaking, the vision was fled!