Sing we praise to Brigid:
Springtime's worthy praises;
Springtime comes from Winter frigid,
Brigid's touch upraises.
She is in the torch felt
Branches snowy-laden
At her touch begin to melt:
First among the Maidens.
Dark is Winter frigid
Cutting is its sharpness
But upon the Feast of Brigid
Spring brings light to darkness.