Roedd Jeff y gath yn yrrwr arswydus o ddrwg. Doedd hi erioed wedi gyrru sied o’r blaen, ac roedd y sied hon yn un gyflym iawn.
– Ti’n beryglus, t’mod, meddai Daf, wrth iddi daro’r ddau flwch post y pentre (un ar gyfer pobl llawchwith, un ar gyfer pobl llawdde). Trodd Jeff y gornel. Taflodd hen fenyw ei siopa i’r awyr wrth iddi drio osgoi’r sied, yr oedd nawr yn rhuthro ar hyd y palmant.
– O na, meddai Jeff.
– Be sy? gofynnodd Daf.
– So’r brêcs yn gweithio rhagor, meddai Jeff. – Daliwch yn dynn.
Roedd y sied yn awr yn anelu at dŷ fel cath i gythraul. Torrodd wal, a malu’n deilchion.
– Wps, meddai Jeff, yn edrych ar y ddau Sant yn cysgu’n sownd yn y llongdrylliad.
– Drycha ar be dw i ‘di ffeindio, meddai Daf. – Blwch plastig neis iawn. Dyma beth we fi’n chwilio amdano. Ac mae rhywun wedi gadael yr allweddi ynddo fe. Bydd hwn yn well nag unrhyw sied. Neidia i mewn.
A bant â nhw.
Dihunodd y Frenhines Branwen, edrych ar yr holl lanast, a griddfan.
– FI SYDD AR FAI, llefodd.
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Saesneg / English
Dave’s New Van – part 3
Jeff the cat was a horrifically bad driver. She had never driven a shed before, and this shed was a fast one.
– You’re dangerous, y’know, said Dave, as she hit the two village postboxes (one for left-handed people, one for right-handed people). Jeff turned the corner. An old woman threw her shopping in the air as she tried to avoid the shed, which was now hurtling along the pavement.
– O no, said Jeff.
– What’s up? asked Dave.
– The brakes aren’t working any more, said Jeff. – Hold tight.
The shed was now aiming hell for leather at a house. It hit a wall, and smashed to pieces.
– Oops, said Jeff, looking at the two saints sleeping soundly in the wreckage.
– Look what I’ve found, said Dave. – A very nice plastic box. This is what I was searching for. And someone’s left the keys in. This’ll be better than any shed. Jump in.
And away they went.
Queen Branwen awoke, looked at all the mess, and groaned.
– I AM TO BLAME, she wailed.
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