THE GHOST WITH THE HAMMER IN HIS HAND gan Arthur Cole

Eitemau yn y stori hon

Dros y blynyddoedd, mae'r cymoedd wedi cynhyrchu sawl paffiwr gwerth chweil. Yn y dyddiau cynnar, roedden nhw fel arfer o gefndir gweithio yn y pyllau glo. Roedden nhw'n paffio mewn ffeiriau, gyda'u dyrnau moel. Mae'r gerdd fer hon am baffiwr o'r math yma, un o'r goreuon mae Cymru wedi'i gynhyrchu, fwy na thebyg.


'THE GHOST WITH THE HAMMER IN HIS HAND'



A Quakers Yard boy, born and raised,

heart of a lion, the world he'd amaze.

The son of a miner, hard as teak,

small of stature, a nature freak.

At the age of twelve, the mine did call,

together with men, the gullies, he'd crawl.

After four years, the booths were his calling,

bare knuckle fighting, big men falling.

He then turned pro, and fought for a living,

big or small, he was unforgiving.

The mighty atom, the name he was dubbed,

world flyweight champion, is what he'd become

For sixteen years, he fought with no fear,

still to this day, he has no boxing peer.

Many have followed, many have tried,

this legend lives on, our nation's pride.

For years enduring, all punches hurled,

a miner's son, he conquered the world,

He wasn't a man to taunt or rile,

that was the legend, peerless Jimmy Wilde.



Hawlfraint Arthur Cole 2016 (34)


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