Dyddiad: 1 Gorffennaf 1915

Trawsysgrif:

THE LONELY COTTAGE.

It was a dreary, lonely house,
Fast going to decay,
This cottage on the cliffs that looked
Out eastward to the bay.
'T had long been uninhabited,
And now of what had been
A trim and tidy gfarden nought
But rank wild grass was seen.

The garden walls were crumbling down,
The little wicket, too,
Swung idly on a single hinge
With every wind that blew;
The front door, blistered by the sun,
Stood wide against the wall,
While withered leaves with every breeze
Went eddying round the hall.

[Mae’r cartŵn yn dangos Jack yn darganfod hen fwthyn.]
A dreary, lonely house.

'Twas many, many years now since
It had 'been occupied.
A sailor man, old Captain Fox,
Had lived there; but he died
Some ten or fifteen years ago,
And, no one claiming it,
The cottage on the cliff had gone
To ruin, bit by bit.

Down at the cosy "Harbour Lights,"
Around the parlour fire,
On dark and stormy winter nights
The old salts never tire
Of spinning yarns about old Fox.
And strange, weird yarns are told
Of smuggling, aye, and darker deed's
Old Fox had done for gold!

[Mae’r cartŵn yn dangos Jack yn edrych drwy drws aer.]
Deep as a well.

Strange yarns about a secret way
Which led down to the rocks,
A subterranean cave as well,
And only known to Fox.
With bated breath they'd whisper of
The secret horde which lay
In that old cave, which never now
Would see the light of day!

These thoughts went through my mind as I
Was passing, late one night,
The little cot; and, as I looked
I thought I saw a light
Flash in the window facing east!
I stopped, and rubbed my eyes.
Yes, there again! I scarcely could
Get over my surprise.

[Mae’r cartŵn yn dangos Jack yn yn dod i lawr rhaff.]
Down I goes.

Quickly I dashed inside the house,
But couldn't see a soul.
I searched, and found an open trap,
Disclosing a dark hole
Deep as a well; while from a beam
A rope hung dangling down.
"Ha, ha!" I says, "whoe'er he was
Is down here, for a crown!"

Hand over hand I lowered myself,
And must have gone, I think,
Down fifteen fathoms; when on top,
And peering o'er the brink,
I sees a face, and then a hand,
And in that hand a knife,
That hacked the rope! Whoe'er he was,
He meant to have my life!

[Mae’r cartŵn yn dangos dyn efo cyllell yn plygu drosodd y twnnel cyfrinachol.]
He hacked at the rope.

"Hold on, you fiend!" I shouted up.
A jeering laugh came down.
"Ve Germans much too clever, yah!
You Engleesman [sic] you drown!"
Another hack! snap went the rope.
Down! down! I knew no more,
Until I wakened in a cave
That opened on the shore!

The tide had left me high and dry,
And none the worse for wear!
I rushed up to the cottage, found
The German spy still there;
Found on him startling evidence
Of a big German plot!
He's quite safe now; he's going to get
What he deserves—that's shot!

Ffynhonnell:
McMann, W. ‘Jack’s Yarns: "The Lonely Cottage”.’ The Brecon County Times. 1 Gorff. 1915. 7.