Why I simply cannot pronounce Welsh

Standing, l-r: Callum James. Dave Bonta.
Seated, l-r: Damian Walford Davies, Ian Hamilton
who read for the late Catriona Urquhart, Andrea Selch,
Clive Hicks-Jenkins, and Marly Youmans.
The reading at Aberystwyth University Art Centre
for The Book of Ystwyth: Six poets on the art of Clive Hicks-Jenkins.
Photo from Clive's Artlog.

One of the challenges of reading a poem with Welsh words in it was sounds so strange they reminded me of a cat with hairballs. Then there's that weird sound where you blow air from each side of your mouth at once...

Anyway, the following sums up why a goodly amount of fiery (yes, I have raging Welshmen and Welshwomen in my family tree, revolters from British rule, heroes and heroines of the wild, wild Southern end of the American Revolution) Welsh blood in my veins does not help me to pronounce. 

You may or may not know that there is a hymn tune called Llanfair. In the states, a popular hymn to that tune is "Jesus Christ is Risen Today," a song often heard at Easter. The name of the tune comes from the first two syllables of a Welsh village, Llanfairpwyllgwyngyllgogery-chwyrndobwllantysiliogogogoch. I am sorely, sorely afraid that I missed a pair of l's while copying that down... The name means something like this: The Church of St. Mary in the hollow of white hazel near the fast-running whirlpool of the church of St. Tysillio beside the red cave.

Now that is wondrous and beautiful and a poem of a name but impossible, isn't it?