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The Song Book
Small was the band that escaped from the slaughter,
Flying for life as the tide 'gan to flow; Hast thou no pity, thou dark rolling water ?
More cruel still than the merciless foe ! Death is behind them, and death is before them;
Faster and faster rolls on the dark wave; One wailing cry—and the sea closes o'er them ;
Silent and deep is their watery grave.
Words (translated from Talhaiarn) by Oliphant. Tune The Plain of Rhuddlan.
From Thomas's Welsh Melodies.