Our loved chieftain

our revered penteulu

a fulcrum to us dreaming men

in the counting house of valour

a cogent leader

a tangent's goader

a guardian's guardian

a helmet against life’s iniquities

your troop of spear pointers

pennants fluttering

neither scabbard-scuppered

nor burdened with hilt-guilt

but astride hungry-mouthed mounts

the thin line of depleted sons

facing the advance of

marauding North Men

Mercians and Scotti

we dragooned Demetae dragons

toe to toe with those who dare 

a foothold in the shoes of our country

and then at Hyddgen again

feuding uphill

rising to the Flemings

with peat encrusted shins

flying over the tussocks

on skirmish shriek lungs

in memory of our history

in defence of our homeland

in the service of our captain

and the increment of tales

to be told around merciful firesides 

in the threadbare centuries

of our mute aftermath

our petrified veneration

(penteulu- the rank of captain of the household bodyguard in medieval Wales. In modern usage it means head of a household or, more literally, head of a family)