Settling the question of pronunciation, once and for all...
I see that you've ordered a scone. I'm afraid I've just looked and there's none. Alas, times are tough, Can I offer you, though, Some soup? We've a nice minestrone...
Many hundreds of moons ago (literally), one of my brothers Hidden textnot NotJohn and I composed some limericks based on Welsh counties. I've attempted to dredge up and reconstruct three of them.
A Methodist preacher from Gwynedd Said “The man who continually synedd Goes to hell when he dies— ’Less he scores lots of tries When the Kingdom of Heaven he wynedd”
There was an old actor from Powys Whose Richard showed dubious prowys “The winter!” he went “Of our discontent!” (Always forgetting the “Nowys”)
A hopeless romantic from Dyfed Said “Come see the world, my belyfed!” But when they got no ferthyr Than a guest house in Merthyr She quite rightly told him to styfed
A bad boring bard from Glamorgan Wrote verses about his own organ Should you read them, be sure To give up by line four— At which point the conclusion is foregone
Rewilding is the thing in Clwyd Though the species defined are quite fluid: I once met a bear Which gave me quite a scare For into my pants I just pwyd.