- I love Harri Webb:

R.S. Thomas' glorious Welsh Landscape
http://www.rhiw.com/pobol/R_S_Thomas_2.htm

and

Harri Webb
Ianto Rhydderch, Tch Tch :

One day while I was docking swedes
With a slow moronic grin
And all my ancestors misdeeds
Wrought their sour death within.

Suddenly there came into view
A figure gaunt and tall.
He said, Forgive me naming you.
I made no sound at all.

He carried on at tedious length
About my life so grim,
It took all my idiot peasant strength
To be polite to him.

At last he ceased and strode away,
The cold Welsh rain came down,
In puddles in that barren clay
I watched my country drown.

Then, indistinguishable from mud,
I started my old car,
The sickness of my tainted blood
Inclined me to a jar.

And oh what festering itch of sin
Brought this damp thought to me
As I fuddled in a squalid inn:
Un baint much help to we.