Rhíannon was invited by the organisers of Féile Bríde to lead the singing and chanting at the candlelit procession to the well on the eve of St. Brigid’s day. Unable to find any song dedicated to Brigid, she decided to write one herself and the result is called . . .
'Brigid's Canticle' and is sung to a very lovely old traditional Irish air. To her surprise, the song proved so popular and she received so many requests for the words that she has decided to make them available via the website.
However, Rhíannon could not have anticipated what lay in store for her and was so moved by all her experiences during the Féile Bríde, that she decided to put down her thoughts in the form of the following reflection . . . ‘Féile Bríde through my Eyes’. To go to the official Féile Bríde site click here . . . www.solasbhride.ie
Here is a link to my recording of
Brigid's Canticle from
my latest album "MadSeaFolk"
This is sung to the traditional air which is popularly known as 'The Wexford Carol'. The Voice Squad have a lovely version which unfortunately is heard only at Christmas time and even then not often enough. Here are my words . . .
Kind pilgrims all who dare to try
Reflect awhile the reason why:
Emerged a maiden first to say
That gentle is the strongest way;
Why fertile earth by dew is blessed
And life anew springs from her breast;
Why acorn grown became the place
Of Brigid’s own revealing grace.
At Imbolc time by Oak Tree there
From womankind a leader fair
Arose to teach us to survive
To heal the earth and guide our lives.
And she invites us all to pray
To God with love this springtime day
And roused in heart, we now rejoice
With song of praise in fulsome voice.
On Curragh plains did shepherds care
For flocks of lambs a’grazing there
And Brigid kind, her mantle lays
On all poor souls in darkest days.
Beneath her cloak of healing light
She brings God’s love to all tonight
Upon her sacred ground we tread
With candle bright, our fears are shed.
With joyful heart and peaceful mind
We walk in hope her place to find
And as St. Brigid had foretold
A wellspring there we soon behold.
On beds of rushes we lie tonight
Encircled by her sacred light
Our vigil true we keep till morn
Of Winter passing and Spring reborn.
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