Dyddiad: 8 Gorffennaf 1915



I saw him sitting on a fence
Not far from my own door,
A sailor who I last had seen
'Way out in Baltimore,
When I was trading 'twixt there and
A place called Surinam,
A Yankee; so we Britishers
Aboard ship called him "Sam."

He didn't seem to notice me,
Although I was quite near,
He was so deep in thought that he
Could, neither see nor hear.
"What is the matter, Sam?" I shouts,
"Don't you remember me?"
He paid no notice, all he said
Was, "Downright treachery!"

[Mae’r cartŵn yn dangos Sam yn eistedd ar ffens.]
Sam was sitting on the fence.

And then he shook his horny fist.
"I wish I had my way,
I guess an' calculate the Huns
Would rue the bloomin' day
They started playin' dirty tricks
Upon the likes o' me,
A free-born Yankee citizen—
The nation of the free!"

I went up then and shook his arm,
"What is the matter, Sam?
Don't you member Baltimore,
The times at Surinam?"
He rubbed his eyes, then brought his hand
Down with a mighty smack
Upon my shoulder: "If it ain't,"
He cries, "my shipmate Jack!"

[Mae’r cartŵn yn dangos Sam yn codi ei ddwrn.]
Torpedoed without warning.

"You've guessed it first time, Sam," I says;
"But what has brought you here?
Your clothes are wet, and you yourself
Are looking rather queer."
His eyes resumed their vacant stare,
He seemed quite to forget
My presence, as he muttered low,
"The brutes! I'll do them yet."

"Come home along o' me," I says,
"Your clothes are soaking wet.
And where's your ship?" He shook his head
And answered, "I forget."
And then he brightened up again,
His memory had come back.
"My ship! Torpedoed—lost my all,
Bar what I stand in, Jack."

[Mae’r cartŵn yn dangos Jack.]
"Thankful I'm British."

I took him home, and when he'd had
A meal, and dry clothes on,
He told his tale. "Yes, Jack," he says,
"The good old ship is gone—
Torpedoed without warning, Jack,
And left us there to drown;
And of her crew eleven good
Americans went down."

"Eleven Americans!" I cries,
"What will your nation say?
'Twill surely rouse your countrymen, 'Cross in the U.S.A.
A hundred odd Americans
Were sent to death before,
Aboard the Lusitania, Sam,
And now eleven more!"

[Mae’r cartŵn yn dangos Jack yn cyfeirio at faner yr UD.]
Under the Union Jack.

"You're right there, Jack, eleven more.
I guess an' calculate
Old Wilson's got to hurry up,
Or else he'll be too late.
I guess you Britishers would have
fieen at the Kaiser's throat.
I guess, though, Wilson will prefer
To send another Note!"

"Send 'em another Note!" I cries.
"Well, all I've got to say,
I'm thankful that I wasn't born
'Cross in the U.S.A.
Thankful that it's the Union Jack
That flutters overhead."
"Aye, Jack, my lad, I envy you
Your luck," was all he said.

McMann, W. ‘Jack’s Yarns: "Torpedoed without Warning”.’ The Brecon County Times. 8 Gorff. 1915. 7.

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