| (1, 0) 199 | Good evening to all here. |
| (1, 0) 200 | That's a fine light you have in your window, Catrin Griffith. |
| (1, 0) 201 | It shines to the other side of the mountain gate. |
| (1, 0) 204 | A bit of supper and a glass of beer─and a welcome if there is one. |
| (1, 0) 208 | Don't you give your man there beer with his supper? |
| (1, 0) 224 | Over three mountains, and one of them the Black Mountain. |
| (1, 0) 226 | It's soft on the top now, and the smell of water everywhere, and the sound of it, too, among the rushes. |
| (1, 0) 239 | How can you tell that, Catrin Griffith, when you do not know who I am? |
| (1, 0) 248 | Well, well, say no more. |
| (1, 0) 252 | No, not Seven Sisters. |
| (1, 0) 255 | No, not Carno. |
| (1, 0) 258 | No, not Llanilid. |
| (1, 0) 263 | Then, perhaps, it was He sent me, if that's true. |
| (1, 0) 264 | But I'll tell you where I came from─from the east and from the west, and from the north and from the south. |
| (1, 0) 265 | IANTO |
| (1, 0) 267 | Well, those are fine big places to come from! |
| (1, 0) 271 | Gitto Fiddler they call me. |
| (1, 0) 275 | No, I will not play a-tune. |
| (1, 0) 276 | I've no delight in it to-night. |
| (1, 0) 277 | But I will sing you a song if you wish. |
| (1, 0) 281 | I'll take a bit to put in my pocket, and thank you. |
| (1, 0) 286 | Thank you, Ianto bach; it's not in the barn I'll be on a fine night in summer; and not in your best bed under your granny's quilt either; but lying up on Darren, waiting and waiting and waiting. |
| (1, 0) 290 | For the moon to come over the edge of the mountain. |
| (1, 0) 293 | Drato! |
| (1, 0) 295 | Dropped my pouch in the water, coming over the river by the stones. |
| (1, 0) 298 | Is there a match with you? |
| (1, 0) 301 | And it's a fine thing, Ianto bach, to be out in the world alive, to be going along the roads day after day, seeing all the sights─some new and some old. |
| (1, 0) 304 | There's the top of the Van in the sky above you. |
| (1, 0) 323 | Yes, indeed, I was. |
| (1, 0) 324 | To hear me sing men would walk ten miles and women hold their tongues for ten seconds. |
| (1, 0) 327 | I'm luckier than he is, whatever. |
| (1, 0) 328 | It's better to be an old tramp dragging his bones along in the wet than a rich farmer lying easy in his coffin. |
| (1, 0) 331 | In heaven, is he? |
| (1, 0) 332 | Now, that's a place I would never want to go to. |
| (1, 0) 339 | Weil, for one thing, there are no mountains to be had in heaven, only streets, like the streets of Cardiff─that's what they say in chapel, whatever. |
| (1, 0) 341 | Gold or mud, it's all the same. |
| (1, 0) 342 | A street is a street. |
| (1, 0) 343 | Let me have the top of the mountain in summer and I'd be content for a thousand years─if only there was one curlew whistling down from the sky. |
| (1, 0) 346 | Yes; and there's where I met the devil. |
| (1, 0) 347 | He goes to every chapel every Sunday. |
| (1, 0) 348 | IANTO |
| (1, 0) 350 | Yes, indeed. |
| (1, 0) 351 | Sometimes he comes and plays a game of draughts with me in the middle of the sermon. |
| (1, 0) 352 | CATRIN |
| (1, 0) 354 | Diws anwyl! |
| (1, 0) 355 | Ianto. |
| (1, 0) 356 | Don't talk like that. |
| (1, 0) 357 | I don't like it. |
| (1, 0) 358 | And if I don't go and wash those dishes we'll be up all night. |
| (1, 0) 360 | And who's to get up to milk the cows in the morning? |
| (1, 0) 362 | The mistress thinks it's time for me to be going. |
| (1, 0) 366 | Oh, ho! Oh, ho! |
| (1, 0) 367 | Love songs, is it? |
| (1, 0) 368 | They all want love songs, and I can't think why. |
| (1, 0) 370 | Never so young as you. |
| (1, 0) 371 | Here's a song for you: "Tra Bo Dau." |
| (1, 0) 373 | ~ |
| (1, 0) 374 | Go, gentle dove, whom my dear love |
| (1, 0) 375 | Has in her arms caressed. |
| (1, 0) 376 | This message bear across the air |
| (1, 0) 377 | Unto her faithful breast. |
| (1, 0) 378 | Say Beauty's rose to meet me glows |
| (1, 0) 379 | And starry looks are shot, |
| (1, 0) 380 | But I so miss her loving kiss; |
| (1, 0) 381 | Tell her to fear them not. |
| (1, 0) 382 | Riches desert or deceive us, |
| (1, 0) 383 | Beauty dissolves like the dew, |
| (1, 0) 384 | Love will outlast the rudest blast, |
| (1, 0) 385 | Wherever hearts are true. |
| (1, 0) 389 | It's the kind of song for them all, I'm thinking. |
| (1, 0) 390 | 'Tisn't a year ago since I was at the wedding of old Bryngwyn with the cobbler's daughter, Gweno. |
| (1, 0) 391 | Duw! there's merry the old fellow was! |
| (1, 0) 392 | Shouting to me to sing a song all about him and his little Gweno. |
| (1, 0) 393 | So I sang them "Tra Bo Dau." |
| (1, 0) 395 | And when I was there at Easter time, old Bryngwyn was still merry and wanting "Tra Bo Dau" over again. |
| (1, 0) 396 | But Gweno keeps her sweetheart's letters on the top shelf of the dresser in the green jug her granny gave her. |
| (1, 0) 397 | That's what Ann, the servant, told me, whatever. |
| (1, 0) 400 | She's only twenty, Ianto bach, and he sixty-five, if he fas four farms as well as Bryngwyn. |
| (1, 0) 402 | Yes, yes─but you're one of the lucky ones. |
| (1, 0) 403 | Anyone can see that. |
| (1, 0) 405 | The queer thing is that old Bryngwyn thinks he's lucky, too. |
| (1, 0) 406 | There's an old fool for you! |
| (1, 0) 412 | No, no. |
| (1, 0) 413 | IANTO |
| (1, 0) 415 | And a fine little housekeeper. |
| (1, 0) 416 | Not a crumb wasted. |
| (1, 0) 417 | And not thinking from morning to night what to put on her back, like other men's wives, but putting a little in the Savings Bank every week. |
| (1, 0) 418 | Is she, indeed, now? |
| (1, 0) 423 | Yes, yes. |
| (1, 0) 425 | Yes, yes─you're lucky, Ianto Griffith. |
| (1, 0) 427 | Very few men are as lucky. |
| (1, 0) 428 | Look at Meredith Pugh down Gwynfa way. |
| (1, 0) 429 | His wife's a terrible screw. |
| (1, 0) 430 | She'll sit all day in the market, and the rain pouring, to sell six-penn'orth of sour apples. |
| (1, 0) 431 | And she gave the minister bread and pickled onion for supper. |
| (1, 0) 432 | There's great talk about her─and I remember her well, a fine young girl. |
| (1, 0) 434 | But Meredith doesn't know it. |
| (1, 0) 435 | Boasting he is all the time about his clever wife and his money in the bank. |
| (1, 0) 437 | There's plenty of those to be had, Ianto bach. |
| (1, 0) 438 | Marged Ann Price's John now, in the Rhondda. |
| (1, 0) 439 | Twopence a week she gives him for tobacco, and him getting £3 at the works. |
| (1, 0) 441 | Wait you a minute! |
| (1, 0) 442 | She made him a coat out of her mother's flannel petticoat─a fine handsome petticoat it was, black with big red stripes, and five-and-twenty years old─everybody knew it. |
| (1, 0) 443 | The men at the works were half killing him with their jokes, but he daren't leave it off. |
| (1, 0) 446 | Marged Ann? |
| (1, 0) 447 | Caton pawb, no! |
| (1, 0) 448 | A little bit of a thing she is, very like your wife. |
| (1, 0) 450 | In face, I mean, not in nature. |
| (1, 0) 454 | That's right. |
| (1, 0) 455 | I like to see a man put the women in their proper place. |
| (1, 0) 456 | But, diawl! there's cunning they are! |
| (1, 0) 457 | My old mother─and some called her a witch─used to say that every woman was a witch, putting spells on men and making them see what isn't there at all. |
| (1, 0) 459 | No, indeed─not men like you, but there's plenty like old Bryngwyn and Meredith Pugh and Marged Ann's John. |
| (1, 0) 460 | They put me in mind of Dicky Dwl of Drim, counting cockle shells and thinking he'd found a golden treasure. |
| (1, 0) 462 | Yes, yes. |
| (1, 0) 465 | Well, it's time for me to be going─but here's something for you first. |
| (1, 0) 468 | Don't you laugh at it, Ianto. |
| (1, 0) 469 | There's a great deal of power in that little leaf. |
| (1, 0) 470 | IANTO |
| (1, 0) 472 | My mother says it's lucky to find one. |
| (1, 0) 473 | It's more than lucky. |
| (1, 0) 474 | My old mother used to say that if a man had a four-leaved clover about him 'twould keep him safe from any spells that anyone would be putting on him─and she was a gipsy and wise. |
| (1, 0) 476 | Never mind. |
| (1, 0) 477 | Where's the harm in putting it in your coat? |
| (1, 0) 483 | Good-night to all here. |
| (1, 0) 488 | Thank you, ma'am. |
| (1, 0) 490 | I'd sooner be the other side of the mountain gate. |