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Intro
At winter’s edge where the white snow thins,
A quiet flame begins again.
From sacred wells and hearthstone bright,
She walks between the dark and light.

Daughter of fire, keeper of song,
Midwife of hope when nights are long—
Brigid, Brigid, hear us call,
Rise with the sun at Imbolc’s wall.

Verse 1

She lights the hearth in every home,
A spark to warm the flesh and bone.
Bread is rising, milk runs sweet,
Life returns with quiet feet.

From mother’s hands to child’s breath,
She guards the line ‘tween life and death,
In whispered prayers and candle flame,
The hearth remembers Brigid’s name.

Chorus

Flame of Brigid, burning clear,
Light the road from year to year.
Well and forge and poet’s breath,
Birth reborn from winter’s death.

At Imbolc’s gate we stand and sing,
Blessed be the returning Spring.
Flame of Brigid, warm and wild,
Guard the mother, heal the child.

Verse 2

She walks the wells where wishes sleep,
Old tears fall and vows run deep.
Silver water, holy ground,
Healing hands without a sound.

Broken hearts and weary souls,
She stitches whole what winter stole,
With rushes green and gentle grace,
She heals the land, she heals our face.

Verse 3

At the anvil sparks fly free,
She shapes the will of what shall be.
Not all fires burn to end—
Some are made so souls can bend.

Sword to plow and pain to art,
She tempers iron, heals the heart.
From poet’s tongue to smith’s embrace,
Creation wears Her fiery face.

Bridge

On Imbolc Eve we set a place,
A candle, cloth, an open space.
“Brigid, pass our doorway wide,”
The old ones whisper, hope applied.

She comes not loud, but soft and sure,
With promises that still endure—
That light returns, the land will wake,
And winter’s hold at last will break.

Final Chorus

Flame of Brigid, burning clear,
Light the road from year to year.
Well and forge and poet’s breath,
Birth reborn from winter’s death.

At Imbolc’s gate we rise and know,
The seeds are stirring far below.
Flame of Brigid, ever bright,
Walk with us toward the light.

Outro

Blessed hearth and blessed land,
Blessed the work of heart and hand.
By flame, by well, by sacred art—
Brigid lives in every heart.

Outro – Maman Speaks
They’ll tell you stories, soft and small,
Of candles lit and churches tall.
But don’t get it twisted, chérie, hear me plain—
That wasn’t the ending… that was just the flame.

I am also known as Maman Brigette

I was the spark before the name,
The laugh in fire, the dance in pain.
Before the saints, before the cross—
That was my beginning, not my loss.

(spoken, sassy)

“Mm-hmm… that was only where I started, bébé.”