A small intro into Llyfr Del, as we explained we have put this on specially for Seligor. She was very angry the other night over something about Wales, so we have decided to make her a special Llyfr Del - "Nice Little Book."

Llyfr Del

           

DEL

Mae teleffon yng Nghymru
O wifren felen fain,
Un pen y dderbyn straeon
A'r llall i wrando 'rhain;
Wrth un mae bod direidus,
O straeon digri'n llawn,
Wrth y llall mae bachgen boch-goch
Yn ddifyr ddifr iawn.

Chwi glywsoch tam y telegraff ac am y teleffon. Dau air Groeg ydyw'r ddau air; yn Gymraeg eu hystyr ydyw, - y pell-ysgrifennydd a'r pell-seinydd. Pe baech chwi yn un pen i'r telegraff a chyfaill yn y pen arall,  fil o filldiroedd i ffwrdd, gallech wneyd i'r telegraff ysgrifennu eich meddwl yn y pen draw gyda eich bod wedi ei ddweyed. Y mae'r teleffon yn beth rhyfeddach fyth; gallwch siarad yn un pen iddo, y bydd eich cyfaill yn clywed  eich llais yn y pen arall. Meddyliwch am blentyn yn medru clywed llais ei fam, tra mae'r môr mawr rhyngddo a hi.
     Ond nid esbonio'r telegraff a'r teleffon  yw fy amcan yn awr, ond dweyd stori honno y mae llawer o straeon ereill, - rhai na fydd yn hawdd iawn i chwi eu coelio hwyrach. Ond rhaid i chwi gofio fod llawer iawn  o bethau rhyfedd yn y byd yma.
      Mi wn i am fachgen bach bochgoch tew. Un hoff iawn o chwaren oedd; ac yn swn plant y pentref i gyd, clywech ei swn ef yn uchaf. Mab i feistr y post oedd; Cadwaladr oedd ei enw iawn, ond Del y galwai pawb ef.  Un llawn bywyd oedd Del; allan yn chware  y byddai wrth ei fodd. Anodd iawn oedd ei gadw'n llonydd mewn na thy na chapel; chware, chware'r oedd Del o hyd . "Del ni ydyw'r gwaethaf yn y wlad," ebe ei fam, wrth dreio 'i gael i'r ty i fynd i'w wely, "un drwg iawn ydyw Del." Ond buase mam Del yn digio am byth wrthych pe coeliech hi. Gwrandewch arni'n siarad a'i bachgen wrth fynd ag ef i'r ty, - "Del bach ddrwg ei fam, 'does mo'i dlysach o yn y byd, na'r well o chwaith."
Ryw dro daeth newid mawr dros fuchedd Del. Ni chlywid ei lais ym mysg lleisiau'r plant ereill, ni chwareuai gyda hwynt, nid oedd na blodenyn ar y caeau na brithyll yn y nant nac aderyn yn y gwrych fedrai ddenu sylw Del fel o'r blaen. Ni chydiai mewn pel, ni cheisiai ennill botyman, ac nid oedd yn hidio mewn marblen, hyd yn nod mewn marblen wydr fawr iawn o liwiau. Doi i'r ysgol i'r dim at amser dechreu; ae wedi amser gollwrng, ai adref ar ei union, ac ni welid Del y prynhawn hwnnw mwy. Yr oedd yn iach a llon, ond ni ddoi i chware. " Un rhyfedd iawn," ebe'r fam, "ydyw Del bach ni."
    O'r diwedd gwelwyd pam yr oedd Del yn y ty o hyd. Yr oedd wedi digwydd, ryw ddiwrnod, roi pellen y teleffon wrth ei glust, a chlywodd yr ystori ryfeddaf glywodd erioed. A phob dydd ai Del i ystafell y teleffon, a rhoddai'r bellan wrth ei glust, a chlywai stori newydd. Ni wyddai o ble doi'r ystraeon, tybiai mai rhyw angel bach, neu un blant y Tylwyth Teg, oedd yn eu dweyd wrtho yn y pen arall. Ond cewch chwi farnu pan glywch hwy.

Mae Del yn gwenu'n hapus,

Fi ddwed y llygad llon

Fod stori felus felus
Yn dod o'r bellen gron.

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog
Hello to everyone out there who has knowledge of the Welsh language, from Patagonia to Australia, Spain to the USA, and don't foget my beautiful Wales as well. Here is a small collection of stories specially delivered to this page by Diddilydeedot's Dreamland. XXX

LLYFR DEL(1906)

 rhodd - Owen Edwards.

Owen Morgan Edwards 

(26 December 1858 – 15 May 1920) 

was a Welsh historian, educationalist and writer. 

He was often known as O. M. Edwards. Owen Edwards was born in Llanuwchllyn near Bala, the eldest son of Owen and Beti Edwards. Just down the road I live as the deryn ddu flies

He gives a vivid description of his early education in his autobiography Clych Adgof ("Bells of Remembrance") published in 1906. Llanuwchllyn was then and remains a strongly Welsh-speaking area, but the Welsh Not was in use at the local school and usually found itself round Owen's neck,as a punishment for speaking Welsh. He went on to change all this as his career developed. The first story "DEL" will explain some of this .

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog* * * Diddilydeedotsdreamland ***



To see many more paintings visit. http://www.paintingsilove.com/

THE MIDNIGHT HORSE

The gardener looked around him in horror. "He has been here again !" he cried.
His wife ran out. the flowers were trampled , the fruit trees torn. They looked at the havoc almost pitifully, for this was Japan, and the land of loving gardeners and artists.

As they stood there gazing at the destruction of the broken flowers a peasant man came walking by.
" Oh, yes," he said. "My place has been trample as well, and some wild beast has trampled through the rice-fields. It has happened for three nights running now. We must do something soon or we shall be ruined."
"What is that ?" cried the gardeners wife, catching sight of a little blue Kimona among the bushes. There lay her son on the ground fast asleep. They woke him with a scolding for spending the night lying in the earth.
" Oh but father ! " he cried. I watched for the beast, and I saw him ! He is a big black horse. He came stamping in, nibbling a bit here and a bit there, but by then I was so sleepy that I fell asleep and didn't see which way he went."
His father patted his shoulder, "you are a good boy but we still are left with the mystery of who this horse belongs to. There is no one here owns a black horse."
" We will catch him tonight, " said the peasant in a determined voice.
And so as soon as it was dusk the villages hid themselves in little groups around the village. About midnight a cloud drifted over the moon, and presently a great black horse came trotting noiselessly along on the grass.

The people ran out with their ropes and sticks and lanterns. The horse wheeled this way and that, there were men on every side But then the horse set off like the wind, rushed past its assailants and vanished into the temple.
Everybody chased after it, but when they reached the temple there was no horse to be seen anywhere.
Then the silence was burst by a scream from the gardeners young son. " Look ! Look ! There he is !"
The child held his lantern up to the newly painted picture on the wall. A Black Horse - and it was steaming from his running !
All the peasants stood there mouth's wide open gaping at the picture.
"Come we must go and fetch Mr Kanaoka; it is his horse he painted it. "
Poor Mr Kanaoka, he was almost dragged from his bed, but he hurried back to the temple with his brushes and colours. When he gazed at the wonderful horse, it looked so spirited that he could not bear to paint it out.
At length he came upon the idea of painting in a tethering post and halter for the runaway steed, and after that there was no more harm done. But the gardener's son often thought he caught a vicious look in the horse's eye, as though its hoofs itched to take vengeance on its betrayer.

*I have know real knowledge of this story from a 1930's encyclopedia for children, but there was a famous painter, whose name was Mr Kose Kanaoka, I wonder if this wee bit of mythology could have come from the 9th century A.D. Gosh Diddily may have made a connection here in Dreamland.

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog Diddily-dee-dot's Dreamland, Welcome's You All.

THE MYTH OF PAN

In a very far-away country, a long time ago, there lived a man who loved music and little children and the birds and flowers. And the little children loved Pan--for that was his name--because he told them such beautiful stories and played on a set of pipes which he had made from the reeds which grew by the river.

Every evening, when it was time for the sun to go to sleep and all the little stars to wake up, Pan would take his pipes, go down to the river side, and play all the songs he knew. Everybody could hear Pan's music for miles and miles, but many of them did not like his music, and wished that he would not play.

Once some of these people gathered together and planned how they could stop Pan from playing his pipes, and while they were talking, some beetles near by heard their plans. Now, one of these beetles had hurt his wing at one time and had fallen down in the dust on the road, and could go no farther. It was a very hot day, and the poor little beetle was almost dead from the heat. Soon Pan came walking along and saw the beetle, and, picking it up very carefully, he carried it on some green leaves to a shady place, where he left it to rest and get well. The beetle had never forgotten Pan's kindness, and when he heard the plans these bad people had made he said:

"Come, friends, and go with me, for we must hurry and tell Pan what the wicked people have planned, so that he will not be there when they go to push him into the river."

The beetles had only one day in which to reach Pan, for the evil people were going to carry out their plans the next night, so they spread their wings and flew as fast as they could fly. They could not travel far at a time, because their wings grew very tired and their bodies were so heavy. When they could fly no longer they would walk, and when they were tired walking they would fly again. In this way they hurried on and on, for the day was growing into night, and they could hear Pan playing his beautiful songs way down by the river bank. They had almost reached him when they heard what seemed to be a crowd of people running through the bushes and among the trees, and it seemed that they were going toward the river. Next there was a big splash and many voices talking loudly, and after that--silence.
When the beetles reached the place where Pan always sat they could not find him; but there in the river were his pipes, which he loved so well.

The people had reached Pan before the beetles, and had pushed him into the river, and his pipes fell in too, but Pan did not wait to get them.
He climbed out and ran as fast as his feet would carry him. The people
ran after him, but he leaped and bounded over the bushes and flowers,
and ran on and on. Sometimes they were almost upon him, but he always
out-ran them.
He wished to hide, but could find no place. He could not climb the trees, for the people could climb trees, too, and he could not hide in the grass or under the bushes, for they would be sure to find him there.

At last, along the river bank, he spied the little violets that had
closed their eyes, but were still gazing at the stars. One little violet seemed to say to him,
"I will hide you," and it folded its little petals around him. Pan was safe now, and from his hiding place he could hear the people searching for him. They looked for a long time, but they did not find him. He was happy and thankful, and, as he was very tired and the soft petals of the violets made a pleasant resting place, he was soon fast asleep.

Away back on the river bank, where Pan always sat, were the beetles.
They were very sorry that they had not reached him in time to tell him that the people were coming, and that they could not get his pipes out of the water, where they had fallen. And, though they never saw him
again, they always remembered him and the beautiful music he used to play.

One day some little children were picking violets by the river, and they found one little violet that had eyes just like Pan's eyes. They took it home and named it Pan's Eye, in memory of their old friend, but, as that was rather a hard name for the little children to say, they called it Pansy.

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddilydeedot's Dreamland presents!

 RELICS AND RATS

Relics and rats
cantrips and cats
giraffes with short necks
and kangaroos without flaps.
Teapots and toads
dead skunks and stoves
terrible journies
on ramshackle roads.
Wombats with wings
see-saws with stings
these are just some
of my favourite things.
 Relics and rats
imps in straw hats
maidens with cherries
and silken cravattes.
Kettles and kippers
vicars and strippers
chocolate ice cream
and ladies with flippers.
Fairies and foam
griffin and gnome -
fine in their place,
but not in the home!
Teapots and toads
leprechauns in brogues
cucumber coffee
and squid a-la-mode.
Owls baked in omelettes
cats stuck in pelmets
children on stilts
and grannies in helmets
Pigs in pink dresses
tarts with dark tresses
lime-flavoured ladders
and foreign addresses
Daisies that sing
button that ping
these are some more
of my favourite things.

I bet your favourite things aren't as exciting

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog Disney with a difference
A is an Apple round and Red.    B is a Bunny tucked up in bed.

A. is and APPLE round and Red.
            
B is a BUNNY tucked upin Bed.


C is a CATERPILLAR out for a Walk.

D is two DOGGIES having a Talk.


E is an ELEPHANT drinking his Tea.

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere : Blog

 
DIDDILYDEEDOT'S DREAMLAND

The Mouse, the Bird and the Sausage

by The Brothers Grimm

Based on translations from Kinder und Hausmarchen by Edgar Taylor and Marian Edwardes.


Once upon a time, a mouse, a bird, and a sausage, entered into
partnership and set up house together. For a long time all went well;
they lived in great comfort, and prospered so far as to be able to add
considerably to their stores. The bird's duty was to fly daily into the
wood and bring in fuel; the mouse fetched the water, and the sausage
saw to the cooking.

we are starting with Mother Goose so why not put some lovely songs on as well

WELL WE STARTED THE PAGE WITH MOTHER GOOSE AND NOW FOR SOME OF HER RHYMES SUNG FOR YOU INSTEAD.

Little Boy Blue....
I SHOULD THINK THAT YOU CAN GET THE WHOLE FAMILY
TO JOIN IN WITH YOU AS WELL.