Ysgrifennwyd y gerdd hon am y Rhyfel Byd Cyntaf gan Arthur Cole; meddai: "Yn ystod y Rhyfel Byd Cyntaf roedd nifer o ddynion ifanc yn gweithio ar ffermydd ledled Cymru; doedd hi ddim yn hawdd arnyn nhw, ac roedden nhw'n cal eu trin yn wael, ac felly pan dorrodd y Rhyfel Byd Cyntaf, aeth nifer ohonynt i ymrestru'n syth. Roedden nhw'n credu y byddai eu bywyd yn llawer gwell, gyda thri pryd bwyd y dydd yn cael ei gynnig, ac wedi'r cyfan, byddai'r rhyfel drosodd erbyn y Nadolig. Mor ddiniwed oedden nhw. Wnaeth nifer fyth ddychwelyd. Ysgrifennais y gerdd hon er cof am y dynion yma." (Saesneg yn unig) 

"THOSE BRAVE FARM BOYS"

The farm was my life, when war was declared,

a far foreign field, I was not even scared.

Blood thirst or politics, not on my mind,

For King and country, the sake of mankind.

Life on the farm, was cruel and hard,

treated like dogs, this war would reward.

Four months we trained, then off to the front,

over by Christmas, Kaiser Bill we would hunt.

Oh so naive, without a care in the world,

my future  uncertain, I watched carnage unfold.

The trenches our havens, from gas and shell,

once over the top, we battled through hell .

Retreat the order, comrades dead on the wires,

back to the trenches, body and soul, oh so tired.

Respite cut short, over the top once again,

like lemmings to slaughter, those orders insane.

A fox hole my refuge, body and mind in free fall,

praying to God, let me live after all.

A farm boy I was, till I answered the call,

I died in that fox hole, in one smokey pall.  

Copyright Arthur Cole, 2016 (97)

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