Gwlas an Hav

Breizh, douar ar sent kozh, douar ar varzhe
Cymru, Gwlad beirdd a chantorion enwogion o fri
Tra ma vo mor ‘vel mur ‘n he zro,
An mor, hedra vo, Yn fos dhis a-dro,
Na thelyn berseiniol fy ngwlad,
Ra vezo digabestr ma bro

Brittany, land of old saints, land of bards,
Wales, old land where the minstrels are honoured and free,
So much so, that the sea will be like a wall all around,
Neither reduced to silence, our harps,
Be free, my land

Le Phare
Tristan Corbière

Phoebus, de mauvais poil se couche
S’allume le grand borgne louche
Debout, Priape d’ouragan,
La lame de rut écumant…
Il se mate et rit de sa rage,
Fier bout de chandelle sauvage
En vain sur sa tête chenue,
Caracole et s’abat la nue,

Il tient le lampion au naufrage,
Casse la mer, crève l’orage
Ronfle et vibre comme une trompe,
D’Eole-Il se peut bien qu’il se rompe,
Sait-il son Musset : A la brune
Et pose juste pour la lune
…Là, gît debout une vestale
Vierge et martyre … sexe mâle

Comme un lézard à l’eau-de-vie
Il tirebouchonne sa vie
Est-il philosophe ou poète ?…
Lunatique ou simplement bête ?…
Demandez-lui donc s’il chérit
S’il parle, il répondra qu’il vit…
Oh ! Que je voudrais là, Madame,
Vivre pour œil, corps pour âme !…
Vous percheriez dans la lanterne :
Et moi ci-gît dans la citerne…
Dans le boyau de l’édifice
Et, dans le feu sans artifice
Tous deux !… Veux-tu ? Rêve pointu
Je monterais… Tu descendrais…
Joli ramonage… et bizarre,
Entre-nous l’érection du phare.

Marzhin ar Foll

Enn amzer ma oann barzh er bed,
Me oa gand ann ho ! enoret ;
Dioc’htu ma ‘z-enn ‘barzh ar zall’
E klevet ann holl o iouc’hal.
Dioc’htu ma kane va delenn,
Koueze diouzh ar gwez aour melen,
Roueou ar Vro am c’hare,
Roueou all holl am douje ;
Bleizi, ha moc’h gwez, kreizh ha hent,
Tre ma’z-ann biou, e skrign ho dent,
Kollet eo gan-in va delen,
Pilet eo gwez ann aour lelen ;
Roueou Breizh a zo maro.
Roueou all a wask ar vro.
Ha na lar ken ar Vretoned :
“Kan, Marzhin, ann traou da zonet ! »
Ann dudigou paour lavare :
« Kan, Marzhin, kan, kan, Marzhin, kan, e peb mare ! »
Laret eure ar Vretoned :
« Kan, Marzhin, ann traou da zonet ! »
Brema ar C’hoajou e vevann,
Den na ra stad ouz in breman.

Translation : Merlin the Fool

When I was still bard and mundane,
I was acknowledged by all men.
As soon as I entered a hall,
I was cheered and welcomed by all.
And when my harp would set to ring,
Bright gold from the trees was dripping ;
The kings of the country loved me;
The others feared an enemy ;
And the poor people used to say :
« Sing, Merlin, sing, do not delay!»
The Bretons often used to claim:
« Sing, Merlin, what is to happen. »
Now I’m dwelling among the trees;
Nobody will care about me.
Wolves and boars I cross on the heath,
When I pass by show me their teeth.
My harp is lost for evermore;
And the gold oozing trees are shorn.
Dead are the kings of Brittany,
Alien kings impose tyranny.
To me the Bretons say no more:
« Sing, Merlin, of the things to come. »

An heol a guz war beg ar mor
Dewi Pajot

An heol a guz war beg ar mor
war hent hunvreoù bale a ran
Ha Bremaik e-kreiz an noz
Mont a rin betek ennout
En tu all d’ar mor e don ma c’halon
An heol a guz war beg ar mor
War hent al lanneg pell diouz
Selaou a ran kan an daeroù
E klevañ e c’hwezh ar miziou du
Trouz ar mor war kerrigi du
Er pellder gouloù un tour-tan a luc’h
War beg ar mor an heol a guz
Er brizh-heol en didrouz
Pouezhan a rez da benn war va skoaz
Krenañ a ran gant ar riv
C’hwezh an avel a sav va blev
En tu all d’ar mor e don ma c’halon
An heol a guz war beg ar mor
En tu all d’ar mor e don ma c’halon
Ha dies eo va c’halon

Diougan Gwenc’hlan

Pa guzh an heol, pa goenv ar mor
Me’oa kanan war dreuz ma dor
Pa oan Yaouank me a gane
Pa’z on deut kozh, ma’gan ivez
Me’gan en noz, me gan en deiz
Ha ma keuziet bras koulskoude

Evit aon me n’em eus ket,
Amzer a-walc’h ez on-me bet
Ne vern petra a c’hoarvezo
Pezh a zo dleet a vezo
Ret eo d’an holl mervel teir gwezh
Kent evit arsaw en diwezh

Darc’h mat’ta ! Darc’h mat’ta ! Morvarc’h !
Darc’h war e benn ! Darc’h mat’ta ! Darc’h !
Ken e riskl er gwad an treizh noz !
Gwazh ouzh gwazh ! Darc’h ‘ta ! Gwazh ouzh gwazh !
Me’wel ar gwad betek e c’hlin,
Me’wel ar gwad evel ullen !

Darc’h mat’ta ! Darc’h mat’ta ! Morvarc’h !
Darc’h war e benn ! Darc’h mat’ta ! Darc’h !
Pa oan em bez yen hunet dous
‘Klevis an er ‘gervel en noz,
Morvran gozh, klev ! Lavar din-me !

Petra c’hoari ganit aze ?
Penn ar penn-lu c’hoari ganin,
E zaoulagad ruz a fell din
E kenver ar barzh na chom ken
Etre Roc’h-Allaz ha Porzh-gwenn

Translation : Gwenc’hlan’s prophecy

When the sun sets and the seas swell,
I sing by the house where I dwell.
When I was young I used to sing;
Now I am old and still chanting.
I sing by night, I sing by day,
But I am distressed and at bay.
I bend my head, in affliction,
And this is not without reason.
It is not because I am scared
To be killed: for that I don’t care.
I feel neither terror nor awe;
I have lived long enough till now.
Who doesn’t seek me, will find me;
Whoever seeks me won’t find me.
I don’t care about the future:
What shall be will be, to be sure.
“-Tell me, toad, what do you wait for,
Here by the corner of his mouth?
-I’ve taken up position here
To snap up the soul he will breathe.
It may dwell in me till I die:
That’s the punishment for his crime
Against the Bard who had lived once
Between Porzh-Gwenn and Roc’h-Allaz.-”

Les 3 petits frères

Ils étaient trois p’tits frères en France,
Qui allaient à l’école à Paris.
Ils étaient trois p’tits frères en France,
Qui allaient à l’école à Paris.
En arrivant près de Pontoise,
Quelqu’un, tout à coup, leur a dit :
« Ne passez pas près de Pontoise,
Ou prisonniers vous serez pris ! »
Ils sont passés près de Pontoise,
Et pour prisonniers ils furent pris.
La grosse cloche sonnait si fort
Que leur grand frère l’entendit.
« Oh ! bride, bride mon cheval,
J’arriverai peut-être à temps ! »
Il arriva près de Pontoise
Et les trouva tous trois pendants.
« Oh ! juges ! Oh ! juges ! Oh ! mauvais juges !
Vous avez fait faux jugement !
Oh ! juges ! Oh ! juges ! Oh ! mauvais juges !
Vous avez tué trois enfants !
Je ferai faire si grand cercueil
Que mes trois frères tiendront dedans !
Je ferai faire si grand tombeau
Que tout le ciel tiendra dedans !
Je ferai faire si grand bûcher
Que tous les juges tiendront dedans ! »
Ils étaient trois p’tits frères en France,
Qui allaient à l’école à Paris.

Translation : The three little brothers

They were three little brothers in France
Who were going to school in Paris.
Arriving near Pontoise
Someone suddenly told them:
“Don’t go near Pontoise
Or you’ll be taken as prisoners!”
They passed by Pontoise
And as prisoners they were taken.
The large bell rang so strong
That their elder brother heard it.
“Oh! Gallop! Gallop! my horse,
I will arrive in good time!”
He arrived near Pontoise
And found all three hanging there.
“Oh! judges! Oh! judges! Oh! bad judges!
You have made a false judgement!
Oh! judges! Oh! judges! Oh! bad judges!
You have killed three children!
I am going to have a big coffin made
That my three brothers will be held within!
I am going to have a tomb made
That all the sky will be held within!
I am going to have a stake made
That all the judges will be held within!
They were three little brothers in France
Who were going to school in Paris.

Trois matelots du port de Brest

Trois matelots du port de Brest (bis)
De sur la mer, djemalon lonla lura,
De sur la mer se sont embarqués.
Ont bien passé trois mois sur mer (bis)
Sans jamais terre, djemalon lonla lura,
Sans jamais terre y aborder.
Au bout de cinq à six semaines (bis)
Le pain, le vin, djemalon lonla lura,
Le pain, le vin vinrent à manquer.
Fallut tirer la courte paille (bis)
Pour savoir qui, djemalon lonla lura,
Pour savoir qui serait mangé.
La courte paille tomba sur le chef (bis)
Ce s’ra donc moi, djemalon lonla lura,
Ce s’ra donc moi qui s’rai mangé.
Oh non sinon, mon capitaine (bis)
La mort pour vous, djemalon lonla lura,
La mort pour vous j’endurerai.
La mort pour moi si tu l’endures (bis)
Cent écus d’or, djemalon lonla lura,
Cent écus d’or je t’y donn’rai.
Ou bien ma fille en mariage (bis)
Ou c’beau bateau, djemalon lonla lura,
Ou c’beau bateau qui est sous nos pieds.
Il n’était pas à demi-hune (bis)
Se mit à rire, djemalon lonla lura,
Se mit à rire et à chanter.
Courage mes enfants courage (bis)
Je vois la terre, djemalon lonla lura,
Je vois la terre de tous côtés.
Je vois les tours de Babylone (bis)
Trois charpentiers, djemalon lonla lura,
Trois charpentiers y travailler.

Translation : Three sailors from the port of Brest

Three sailors from the port of Brest
on the sea they embarked
They spent three months on the sea
without ever boarding land
At the end of five to six weeks
They were missing bread and wine
They had to pull the shortest straw
To know who would be eaten
The shortest straw fell on the captain
“It will be me who will be eaten”-
“Oh no, another way, my captain
I will endure death for you!”-
“If you will endure death for me
I will give you one hundred gold coins!”
They were only half way there
And they started to laugh and sing
“Courage my boys courage
I see land on all sides”
“I see the towers of Babylon
And my mistress of old!”

Le maître de maison

Bonsoir maître de maison
Et toute la compagnie, lan direlire lanlura
Je ne suis point venu ici ce soir
Ni pour manger ni pour rire, lan direlire lanlura
Je suis venu pour vous demander
La main de votre fille, lan direlire lan lura
Jeune homme laquelle voulez-vous
La grande ou bien la petite, lan direlire lanlura
Monsieur la petite s’il vous plaît
Car elle est la plus jolie, lan direlire lanlura
La grande est assise au coin du feu
Oh, qui pleure et qui soupire, lan direlire lanlura
Oh ma sœur ne pleurez pas tant
Car vous serez mariée, lan direlire lanlura
Mariée à un riche marchand
Un marchand de mort subite, lan direlire lanlura
Et qui vous mènera à Quimper
A cheval sur une barrique, lan direlire lanlura

Le corsaire “le Grand Coureur”

Le corsaire “le Grand Coureur”

Est un navire de malheur

Quand il se met en croisière

Pour aller battre l’Anglais

Le vent la mer et la guerre

Tournent contre le Français

refrain

Allons les gars gai, gai

Allons les gars gaiement

Il est parti de Lorient

Avec belle mer et bon vent

Il cinglait bâbord amure

Naviguant comme un poisson

Un grain tombe sur la mâture

Voilà le corsaire en ponton

Il nous fallut remâter

Et diablement bourlinguer

Tandis que l’ouvrage avance

On aperçut par tribord

Un navire d’apparence

A mantelets de sabord

C’était un anglais vraiment

A double rangée de dents

Un marchand de mort subite

Mais le Breton n’a pas peur

Au lieu de prendre la fuite

Nous le rangeons à l’honneur

Ses boulets sifflent sur nous

Nous lui rendons coup par coup

Tandis que la barbe en fume

A nos braves matelots

Nous voilà pris dans la brume

Nous échappons aussitôt

Pour nous refaire des combats

Nous avions à nos repas

Des gourganes et du lard rance

Du vinaigre au lieu du vin

Le biscuit pourri d’avance

Et du camphre le matin

Nos prises au bout de six mois

Ont pu se monter a trois

Un navire plein de patates

Plus qu’à moitié chaviré

Un autre plein de savates

Un troisième de fumier

Pour finir ce triste sort

Nous venons périr au port

Dans cette affreuse misère

Quand tout l’monde s’est cru perdu

Chacun selon sa manière

S’est sauvé comme il a pu

Le ca’ptaine et son second

Se sont sauves sur un canon

Le maître sur la grande ancre

Le commis sur son bidon

Ah ! Le triste et vilain congre

Le voleur de ration

De notre horrible malheur

Le calfat seul est l’auteur

En tombant de la grande hune

Dessus le gaillard d’avant

A rebondi sur la pompe

Et défoncé le bâtiment

Si l’histoire du grand coureur

A pu vous toucher le cœur

Ayez donc belle manière

Et payez nous largement

Du vin du rack de la bière

Et nous serons tous contents

Translation : The Privateer “Grand Coureur”

The privateer Grand Coureur
Is a poor, unlucky ship,
When she sets out so bold
To chase the English at sea
Alas! The wind, sea and war
Turn their back to the French.

Come on, boys, come on!
Come on, boys, stay merry!

She sailed out from Lorient
With still sea, and fair winds
That drove her from larboard
Making her sail like a fish.
But there it comes a storm
And, alas! She’s made a wreck.

All the masts had we to mend
Working hard like slaves,
And as work is still going on
Someone calls from starboard.
Here comes a ship boarding,
And she’s full of cannon guns.

It was just an English ship
showing her two rows of guns.
Looked like a true death monger,
but the Breton do not fear her.
So, instead of taking flight,
we’ll engage in the fight.

The balls flying o’er our heads,
we repaid ‘em one by one,
our brave sailormen’s beards
are steaming in the great toil!
Then the English ship it sneaks
in a fog bank and disappears.

Here’s what we picked up
in six months roving at sea:
a ship loaded with potatoes
just half-wrecked, as you see,
and another carrying slippers,
and the last loaded with dung.

To recover from the fight
We got a nice meal indeed:
A slop, rancid lard in slices,
Sour vinegar instead of wine,
Mouldy biscuits gone long since,
Camphor brandy for breakfast.

To get rid of our bad fate
We’re drawing to the port
To put an end to disgraces
By death, seeing how it’ll end.
Everyone of us is trying
to reach safety his own way!

The captain and his adjutant
Clinging to a floating gun,
The boatswain to the big anchor,
The storekeeper to a barrel,
That bloody old motherfucker!
He always stole our allowance.

Behold now the ship’s cook
With his kitchen and his hooks,
How he’s hidden in a big pot
just like stale bread soup,
sailing away with the wind
as if pursued by the hell fire.

All our bad luck, I tell ye,
is the caulker’s fault, you see:
he fell down from the maintop
on to th’ slippery stemdeck,
bounced back down the caboose
and the girders he did break.

If the story of Grand Coureur
your heart it did move to weep
be so kind as to repay us
by your gratefulness so deep!
Give us wine, rhum and beer
and we’ll drink your health to keep!

Come on, boys, come on!
Come on, boys, stay merry!

An hini a garan

An hini a garan, gwechall bihan er gêr
Pa oamp tostig an eil, an eil ouzh egile
Va c’halon ne gare, gare nemet unan
Pa oan bihan er gêr an hini a garan
An hini a garan, ‘m eus kollet da viken
‘Mañ degouezhet pell ha ne zistroio ken
Ha setu ma kanan, kanan keti ketañ
Ha setu ma kanan d’an hini a garan
An hini a garan, un deiz ‘n eus va losket
Aet eo d’ar broioù pell, d’ur vro n’an’vezan ket
Aet eo d’ar broioù pell, d’ur vro n’an’vezan ket
Kollet, kollet un deiz, an hini a garan

Translation : The one I love

The one I love, before, when we were little at home
When we were so near to each other
My heart was loving only one
When I was little at home, the one I love
The one I love, I lost her forever
She has gone far away and will never come back
And this is what I sing for the one I love
The one I love, one day she left me
For a far away land
A land that I don’t know
Lost, lost one day, the one I love

Tri Martelod

Tri martolod yaouank… Tra la la la…
Tri martolod yaouank i vonet da veajiñ (bis)
E vonet da veajiñ, ge!
E vonet da veajiñ (bis)
Gant ‘n avel bet kaset… Tra la la la…
Gant ‘n avel bet kaset beteg an Douar Nevez (bis)
Beteg an Douar Nevez, ge!
Beteg an Douar Nevez (bis)
E-kichen mein ar veilh… Tra la la la…
E-kichen mein ar veilh o deus mouilhet o eorioù (bis)
O deus mouilhet o eorioù, ge !
O deus mouilhet o eorioù (bis)
Hag e-barzh ar veilh-se… Tra la la la…
Hag e-barzh ar veilh-se e oa ur servijourez (bis)
E oa ur servijourez, ge !
E oa ur servijourez (bis)
Hag e c’houlenn ganin… Tra la la la…
Hag e c’houlenn ganin pelec’h ‘n eus graet konesañs (bis)
Pelec’h on-oa konesañ, ge !
Pelec’h on-oa konesañs (bis)
En Naoned er marc’had… Tra la la la…
En Naoned er marc’had on-oa choajet ur walenn (bis)

Translation : Three young sailors

Three young sailors
O lonia ladiguetra
Three young sailors
Set out for a journey
They set out for a journey, yes
They set out for a journey
Pushed by the wind, yes
O lonia ladiguetra
Till a new land, yes
Till a new land
By the stones of a mill
O lonia ladiguetra
By the stones of a mill
They dropped anchor
They dropped anchor, yes
They dropped anchor
And inside that mill
O lonia ladiguetra
And inside that mill
There stood a servant
There stood a servant, yes
There stood a servant
And she asked me
O lonia ladiguetra
And she asked me
Where had we met
Where had we met, yes
Where had we met
Where had we met, yes
Where had we met
In Nantes, at the market
O lonia ladiguetra
In Nantes, at the market
We chose a ring
We chose a ring, yes
We chose a ring
We chose a ring, yes
We chose a ring
An engagement ring
O lonia ladiguetra
An engagement ring
For those who will marry
For those who will marry, yes
For those who will marry
For those who will marry, yes
For those who will marry
And we will marry
O lonia ladiguetra
And we will marry
And will have a family
And will have a family, yes
And will have a family
And will have a family, yes
And will have a family
And my song ends here
O lonia ladiguetra
And my song ends here
Who knows the following sing on!

Kan an alarc’h

Un alarc’h, un alarc’h tra mor (bis)
War lein tour moal kastell Arvor

DiskanDinn, dinn, daoñ, d’an emgann, d’an emgann, o !Dinn, dinn, daoñ, d’an emgann ez an
Neventi vad d’ar Vretoned

Ha mallozh ruz d’ar C’hallaoued
Erru ul lestr e pleg ar mor

E ouelioù gwenn gantañ digor
Degoue’et an Aotrou Yann en-dro

Digoue’et eo da ziwall e vro
D’hon diwall diouzh ar C’hallaoued

A vac’hom war ar Vretoned
Ken e laosker ur youc’hadenn

A ra d’an aod ur grenadenn
Ken e son ar menezioù Laz

Ha froen, ha trid ar gazeg c’hlas
Ken e kan laouen ar c’hleier

Kant lev tro-war-dro, e pep kêr
Deut eo an heol, deut eo an hañv

Deut eo en-dro an Aotrou Yann
Luc’h a daol e c’hoaf p’hen horell,

Ken e vrumenn an neb a sell
Pa c’hoari kreñv, ken kreñv e tarc’h

Ken e taouhanter den ha marc’h
Darc’h atav, dalc’h mat, aotrou dug,

Dav warnehe! ai-ta! bug-ho! bug!
Neb a drouc’h ‘vel a douc’hez-te

N’en deus aotrou nemet Doue!
Dalc’homp, Bretoned, dalc’homp mat !

Arsav na truez ! gwad oc’h gwad !
Skrignañ ‘ra bleizi Breizh-Izel

O klevet embann ar brezel
O klevet ar youc’h, e yudont

Gant c’hwezh ar C’hallaoued e reont
En heñchoù, e-berr a welour

O redek ar gwad evel dour
Ken yey ruz-glaou brusk an houidi

Hag ar wazi gwenn o neuiñ
Muioc’h a dammoù goaf, e sklent,

Eget skoultroù goude barr-went;
Ha muioc’h a bennoù-marv,

Eget e karnelioù ar vro
Paotred Bro-C’hall ‘lec’h ma kouezhint

Betek deiz ar varn e c’hourve’int
Betek deiz ar varn hag ar fust,

Gant an Trubard a ren ar rustl
An diveradur eus ar gwez

‘Ray dour benniget war e vez !
Enor, enor d’ar gwenn-ha-du

Ha d’ar C’hallaoued mallozh ruz !

Translation : The Swan

A swan, a swan from overseas,
On top of the old tower of Castle Arvor sits!

Din, din, daon, to the fight, to the fight, o!Din, din, daon, to the fight I go!
It’s a good news for the Bretons,For the French a malediction!
A ship has arrived in the bay,

With all its white sails on display;
T’is Lord Yann who is now backhome

To protect his land he has come.
To protect us against the French,

Who’re striving our rights to suppress.
A cry rises joyful and shrill

That makes the shore quiver and thrill
So that the hill of Laz trembles

And the sea, the grey horse stumbles!
The sun has come, summer has come

And back to us is our Lord Yann !
Our Lord Yann is a brave fellow,

His foot is swift, his eye also.
With his sword he can hit so hard,

As to cut in-two man and horse.
Hold on, my brave Bretons, hold on!

Blood for blood! No truce nor pardon!
Low Brittany’s wolves gnash their teeth,

On hearing the call to enlist;
Hearing the cheers, they set to yell

As the scent of the French they smell
Each man from France wheree’er he falls,

Shall lay there until doomsday dawns!
The rain dripping down from the leaves

Be holy water on their graves!
Let’s honour our Gwenn ha Du,

and to the French let’s show a bloody fist!
Din, din, daon, Go and fight, to the fight, o!

Din, din, daon, to the fight I go!

Ar falc’hon

Taget ar yar gant ar falc’hon,

Gant ar gouerez lazhet ar c’hont ;

Lazhet ar c’hont, gwasket an dud,

An dud paour evel loened mut
Gwasket an dud, mac’het ar vro

Gant alouberien arall-vro,

War marv ur yar hag ur falc’hon,

Breizh e gwad, e tan hag e kañv
War menez du e gouel Yann mat,

Tregont kouer en-dro d’an tantad.

Ha Kado-gann, eno gante,

War he forc’h houarn a harpe.
Me, ma danvez a ya da goll,

Da goll a ean en holl-d’an-holl;

Ken na vo ar bloaz achuet,

Vo ret din mont da glask ma boued
Kent an deiz kavfont trouz ha kann

Nini hen toue mor ha taran !

Nini hen toue stered ha loar !

Nini hen toue nenv ha douar!
Ma yudent gant kounnar, en noz.

Evel bleizi kouezhet er foz;

Ha tronoz pa savas an heol,

Oa ‘r gwiraerien luduet holl

Translation : The Hawk
The hen was strangled by the hawk,

The woman has then killed the count,

The count being killed, they plagued the folk,

With taxes, quite a huge amount.
The French oppressed folks, trod the land on

All those alien invaders,

Who came from France,

Touted for by the Dowager.
They trod the land; a rising broke.

The young rose and the elderly.

The death of a hen and a hawk

Has set fire to all Brittany.
On a mount, on Saint John’s evening

Thirty men gathered round a fire,

And with them, on his fork leaning,

Was Kado who was full of ire.
-What do you say, porridge eaters,

Are you going to pay the tax?

I shall pay none whatsoever!

I shall be hanged if I do that!
-I shall not pay the tax either!

My cattle starves, bare go my sons.

That by this glowing fire I swear,

By Saint Kado and by Saint John!
-I have not a ha’penny to spend,

I lost all my chattels and goods;

Before this year comes to an end,

I’ll have to go and beg for foods!
-You’re not going to beg for feed,

But just follow me every one.

If it’s trouble and fight they need,

Before sunrise they shall have some!
-Before sunrise trouble and fray!

We swear it by thunder and sea!

We swear it by the earth and sky,

By the moon and stars!
-And Kado grasped a glowing brand,

And everybody did the same:

Let’s go, friends, let’s go to Gwenrann!

Let’s go fast and quick in God’s name!-
And from fire to fire they went on

All along the mountain peaks:

-Quick, hurry up, quick come along!

Let’s burn all the revenue freaks !-
When they went down the mountain

They were three thousand and hundred;

And when in Langoad they came,

They were nine thousand in a herd.
And when they arrived in Gwenrann,

Kado faced an immense party:

Three hundred and thirty thousand!

-Courage, my friends, it’s here!- quoth he.
He had not yet finished to speak

When three hundred cartloads of gorse

Around the fort were brought and heaped,

And blazing flames shrouded the fort!
Flames that were so hot and blazing,

That iron forks in them would melt,

And that you could hear bones cracking

Right like those of the damned in hell!
That they squealed with rage in the night,

Like wolves into the pit fallen;

And next morning, when shone the light,

Turned to ashes were all taxmen!