~Gabha
The smith dwells deep within the ground;
A sword is struck, a hammer clangs.
Within his furnace shields are found,
And from his anvil mail hangs.

A world of winter white awaits,
Of crystal trees and hoary mire,
Above the blacksmith’s iron gates –
Above the soot and sweat and fire.

~Grian
Behold the return of the Sun:
The gold winter lion;
The thaw is his roar.
His warm Summer reign has begun.
His mane is afire;
The dark is no more.

To Brighid the lion obeys:
A nascmhíl of mercy,
To whom we give thanks.
His fiery iron-claws blaze
And burn a green rune
Upon winter’s white flanks!

~Anam
Awaken you with speed this blessed morn!
And plant your grain and seed this blessed morn!
Weave your cross, get clothing made!
On whetstone hone your spear and blade!
Prepare for birth or bride or raid this blessed morn!

Awaken you and grin this blessed morn!
With open doors let in this blessed morn!
Return to life and breathe the air!
With clansmen hunt fine winter fare!
The new year echoes everywhere this blessed morn!