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Disgrifiad

Dyddiad: 25 Mawrth 1915

Trawsysgrif:

THE WILY TURK

The Dardanelles? Yes, I've been there,
But wouldn't like to say
How many years ha' passed since last
I lay in Saros Bay;
And now the Queen Elisabeth
Is lying there, I see,
And shelling forts twelve miles an' more
Across Gallipoli.

I had been reading t'other day
About the Lizzie's work,
Imagining how it must feel
Just now to be a Turk.
Imagining his feelings when
The British Navy calls
On Enver Pasha, when at last
Constantinople falls.

[Mae'r cartŵn yn dangos Jack yn nodi dyn Twrcaidd.]
He wore a fez.

I put my paper down to go
A turn along the shore,
And got my pipe a-going; but
I'd hardly left the door
When I sees, a-coming 'long the beach,
A man. Hello," I says,
"What joker's this? for, 'pon my word
The old chap wore a fez!

I stopped an' waited there for him
As he came shuffling on;
He was a beauty! seemed to me
As if the chap had gone
A month an' more without a wash—
In fact, I'd bet on that!
Then, as he passed, I shouts, "Hello!"
Where did you get that hat?"

[Cartŵn hiliol o ddyn Twrcaidd.]
"I vas naturallise."

My shout seemed to awaken him.
He stopped, an' looked at me.
An' then he smiled. "Allah be praised,
A sailor man I see."
"But you're a Turk," I says to him.
He looked with some surprise.
"I vas von vonce, but now I am
A Breetish—naturalise!"

An' all the time his shifty eyes
Were wandering round the place.
Do what I could, I couldn't get
A square look at his face.
"Vell, I must vat you call 'move on.'"
"Oh, wait a bit," says I.
"What do you think o' Turkey?" and
[I] tried to catch his eye.

[Mae'r cartŵn yn dangos Jack yn edrych trwy ffenestr.]
The window open.

His little beady eyes flashed fire.
"De Turk vill vipe———" he cries.
Then stopped. "My friendt, I quite forgot
Dat I vas naturalise.
De Turk no vin, dey never stand
Dose powerful Breetish shells.
In two, dree weeks, your Navy, sare,
Vill force de Dardanelles!"

A crafty smile spread o'er his face;
But in a flash was gone.
"Vell, as I said before, my friendt,
I must be moving on."
An' off he shuffled, an' I watched
Till he was out o' sight;
But little thought that Turk an' I
Would meet again that night!

[Mae'r cartŵn yn dangos dyn Twrcaidd a daflwyd mas tŷ Jack.]
I kicked him out.

'Twas late before I got back home,
An' when I did I found
The window open. "Thieves!" I cried,
An' went in with a bound,
To find that dirty, greasy Turk
Searching my papers through.
He yelled for mercy; but I did
What any sailor 'd do.

Then I made sure he'd nothing got,
An' then, despite his yells,
I gave him what the other Turks
Get in the Dardanelles—
Just kicked him out. He down the road,
Quick as a bloomin' shot,
Did what his country soon will do.
What's that? The Turkey Trot!


Ffynhonnell:
McMann, W. 'Jack's Yarns: "The Wily Turk".' The Brecon County Times. 25 Mawrth 1915. 7.

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