Brighid

There's a tree by the well in the woods that's covered in garlands,
Clooties and ribbons that drift in the cool morning air,
That's where I met an old woman who came from a far land,
Holding a flame o'er the well, and singing a prayer.
Goddess of fire, Goddess of healing,
Goddess of Spring, welcome again.
She told me she'd been a prisoner trapped in a mountain,
Taken by the Queen of Winter at Summer's End,
But in her prison she heard a spell the people were chanting,
Three days of Summer, and snowdrops are flowering again.
She spoke of the Cell of the Oak where a fire is still burning,
Nineteen Priestesses tend the eternal flame,
Oh but of you, my Lady, we are still learning,
Brighid, Brigantia, the Goddess of Many Names.
(Bridge)
Then I caught her reflection in the mirrored well,
And looked deep into her face,
The old woman gone, a maiden now knelt in her place.
From my pocket I pulled a ribbon,
And in honour of her maidenhood,
I tied it there to the tree by the well in the wood.
Goddess of fire, Goddess of healing,
Goddess of Spring, welcome again.