Mae selsigen hudolus Franz Kafka mor lawn o wynt bod hi’n hollol rownd erbyn hyn. Fel balŵn.
Mae Daf y gath yn dal i fod yn rhechu rhywle o dan lwyn oherwydd caws anfad Santes Dwynwen, felly mae rhaid i Dewi Sant achub y dydd.
– Gweddïwn, meddai.
– Paid â bod yn wirion, meddai Jeff y gath. – Mae angen cemegau diwydiannol cryf.
– Felly, gweddiwn am gemegau diwydiannol cryfion, meddai Dewi Sant.
Mae cemegau diwydiannol cryf yn ymddangos.
– Dyna ni. Mae’r Arglwydd yn gweithio mewn ffyrdd dirgel.
Saesneg / English
The Stinky Sausage
Franz Kafka’s magic sausage is so full of wind that it is now fully round. Like a balloon.
Davethe cat is still farting somewhere under a bush because of St Dwynwen’s evil cheese, so St David has to save the day.
– Let us pray, he says.
– Don’t be silly, says Jeff the cat. – Strong industrial chemicals are needed.
– Therefore, let us pray for strong industrial chemicals, says St David.
Strong industrial chemicals appear.
– There we go. The Lord works in mysterious ways.
