Un tro, wrth i’r sosban fach yn berwi cwstard cariad Santes Dwynwen yn hapus, roedd Daf y gath yn syllu ar sied Dewi Sant, a oedd nawr yn llawn dop o fwyd cathod. Doedd dim llawer o le ar ôl i Dewi Sant orwedd i lawr, heb sôn am groesawu ei gariadon ef gyda’r nos.
– Rhaid i ni wneud rhywbeth i helpu, meddai Daf i’w ffrind calico Jeff.
– Paid gofyn i fi am help, wi’n fishi, atebodd Jeff, cyn rhedeg bant i chwarae gyda’r hanner-siarc.
– Beth am i ni adeiladu llawr arall i’r sied? gofynnodd Daf i Franz Kafka, a oedd wedi bod yn cuddio tu ôl i’r trebuchet.
– Syniad da, ymatebodd Kafka, – ond does dim unrhyw obaith.
Yn sydyn, daeth syniad i Daf a byddai’n arbed llafur. Rwbiodd e botel y genie, a ymddangosodd mewn cwmwl o fwg.
– Genie’r botel dw i, meddai’r dyn glas enfawr. – Galla i ganiatàu tri dymuniad. Beth yw dy ddymuniad cyntaf?
– Am gyfleus, meddai Daf. – Hoffwn i lawr arall i’r sied hon.
– Da iawn, atebodd y genie, cyn iddo greu llawr cyntaf i’r sied drwy hud a lledrith.
– Beth yw dy ail ddymuniad?
– Grisiau, meddai Daf.
– Rhaid imi dweud dy fod ti’n gath ymarferol iawn, meddai’r Genie, a chreu grisiau.
– Beth yw dy drydydd ddymuniad?
Yr eiliad hon, cyrraeddodd Jeff, gyda dyn dosbarthiadau a oedd yn cario pentwr o focsys.
– Alli di fynd â’r rhain i lan i’r llawr cyntaf plîs, Mistar Genie? meddai hi. – Diolch yn fawr.
Rowliodd y genie ei lygaid.
– Da iawn.
– Beth sy’ yn y bocsys? gofynnodd Daf.
Cododd Jeff ael yn ddiniwed.
– O, dw i’n gweld, meddai Daf. – Well i ti ofyn i’r genie am sied arall.
– Na fyddai. Na i sgwennu at y Corinthiaid unweth eto, meddai Jeff. – Sdim dymuniadau ar ôl i ni.
Cwmpodd Dewi Sant i lawr y grisiau, yn ddramatig. Dyna oedd y lleia y gallai e wneud.
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Saesneg / English
The Stairs
One day, while the little saucepan was happily boiling Saint Swynwen’s love custard, Dave the cat was gazing at Saint David’s shed, which was now full to the brim with cat food. There wasn’t a lot of space left for Saint David to lie down, let alone entertain his lovers for the evening.
– We must do something to help, said Dave to his calico friend Jeff.
– Don’t ask me for help, I’m busy, said Jeff, before running away to play with the half-shark.
– How about we build another floor for the shed? Dave asked Franz Kafka, who had been hiding behind the trebuchet.
– Good idea, responded Kafka, – but there is no hope.
Suddenly, a labout saving idea came to Dave. He rubbed the bottle of the genie, who appeared in a cloud of smoke.
– I am the genie of the bottle, said the enormous blue man. – I can grant three wishes. What is your first wish?
– How convenient, said Dave. – I’d like another floor for this shed.
– Very good, answered the genie, before creating a first floor for the shed by magic.
– What is your second wish?
– Stairs, said Dave.
– I must say that you’re a very practical cat, said the Genie, and created stairs.
– What is your third wish?
That second, Jeff arrived, with a delivery man who was carrying a stack of boxes.
– Can you take these up to the first floor please Mister Genie? she said. – Thanks a lot.
The genie rolled his eyes.
– Very good.
– What’s in the boxes? asked Dave.
Jeff raised an eyebrow innocently.
– Oh, I see, said Dave. – You’d better ask the genie for another shed.
– No. I’ll just write to the Corinthians again, said Jeff. – We don’t have any wishes left.
Saint David fell down the stairs theatrically. That was the least he could do.
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