To-day is the Day of Bride,
The serpent shall come from his hole,
I will not molest the serpent,
And the serpent will not molest me.
The serpent will come from the hole
On the brown day of Bride,
Though there should be three feet of snow
On the flat surface of the ground.
Moonlight shining on the Quickening Tree, the heat and wax of sacred candles, the milk of ewes, Brigid's blackberry, the sting of keening wind, and the last flutter of the Cailleach's winter snow.