Odious and hard is the law

And painful to little squirrels.

They go the whole way to London

With their cry and their matron before them.

This red squirrel° was splendid,

Soft-bellied and able to read;

She conversed with the Council

And made a great matter of it.

W hen the Book was put under her hand

In the faith that this would shame her,

She spoke thus to the bailiff:

“Sir Bribem, you're a deep one!”

Then on her oath she said,

“All Rhuthyn's woods are ravaged;

My house and barn were taken

One dark night, and all my nuts.

The squirrels all are calling

For the trees; they fear the dog.

Up there remains of the hill wood

Only grey ash of oak trees;

There's not a stump unstolen

Nor a crow's nest left in our land.

The owls are always hooting

For trees; they send the children mad.

The poor owl catches cold,

Left cold without her hollow trunk.

Woe to the goats, without trees or hazels,

And to the sow-keeper and piglets!

Pity an old red-bellied sow

On Sunday, in her search for an acorn.

The chair of the wild cats,

I know where that was burnt.

Goodbye hedgehog! No cow-collar

Nor pig trough will come from here anymore.

If a plucked goose is to be roasted,

It must be with bracken from Rhodwydd Gap.

No pot will come to bubbling,

No beer will boil without small twigs;

And if peat comes from the mountain

In the rain, it's cold and dear.