Pen-Y-Gwrydd: To Tom Hughes, Esq

There is no inn in Snowdon which is not awful dear, / Excepting Pen-y-gwrydd (you can't pronounce it, dear), / Which standeth in the meeting of noble valleys three -- / One is the vale of Gwynant, so well beloved by me, / One goes to Capel-Curig, and I can't mind its name, / And one it is Llanberris Pass, which all men knows the same; / Between which radiations vast mountains does arise, / As full of tarns as sieves of holes, in which big fish will rise, / That is, just one day in the year, if you be there, my boy, / Just about ten o'clock at night; and then I wish you joy.

Now to this Pen-y-gwrydd inn I purposeth to write, / (Axing the post town out of Froude, for I can't mind it quite), / And to engage a room or two, for let us say a week, / For fear of gents, and Manichees, and reading parties meek, / And there to live like fighting-cocks at almost a bob a day, / And arterwards toward the sea make tracks and cut away, / All for to catch the salmon bold in Aberglaslyn pool, / And work the flats in Traeth-Mawr, and will, or I'm a fool.