Men Of Harlech
Traditional - Welsh
- Hark! I hear the foe advancing, Barbed steeds are proudly prancing,
Helmets in the sunbeams glancing, Glitter through the trees.
Men of Harlech lie ye dreaming? See ye not their falchions gleaming?
While their pennants gaily streaming Flutter in the breeze.
From the rocks abounding
Let the war cry sounding,
Summon all at Freedom’s call;
The haughty foe surrounding.
Men of Harlech, on to glory,
See your banner famed in story,
Wave these burning words before thee,
“Welshman scorns to yield”.
- Mid the fray see dead and dying, Friend and foe together lying,
All around the gun shot flying, Scatters sudden death.
Frightened steeds are wildly neighing, Brazen trumpets hoarsely braying,
Wounded men for mercy praying With their parting breath.
See they’re in disorder!
Comrades keep close order!
Ever shall they rue the day,
They ventured ‘cross our border.
Now the Saxons flee before us,
Vict’ry’s banner floateth o’er us.
Raise the loud exulting chorus
“Cymru wins the field”.