Brigid, the daughter of Duffy, she wasn’t like other young things, Dreaming of lads for her lovers, and twirling her bracelets and rings; Combing and coiling and curling her hair that was black as the sloes, Painting her lips and her cheeks that were ruddy and fresh as the rose. Ah, ’twasn’t Brigid would waste all her days in such follies as these-- Christ was the Lover she worshipped for hour after hour on her knees; Christ and His Church and His poor,--and ’twas many a mile that she trod Serving the loathsomest lepers that ever were stricken by God. Brigid, the daughter of Duffy, she sold all her jewels and gems, Sold all her finely-spun robes that were braided with gold to the hems; Kept to her back but one garment, one dress that was faded and old, Gave all her goods to the poor who were famished with hunger and cold. Ah, ’twasn’t Brigid would fling at the poor the hard word like a stone-- Christ the Redeemer she saw in each wretch that was ragged and lone; Every wandering beggar who asked for a bite or a bed Knocked at her heart like the Man who had nowhere to shelter His head. Brigid, the daughter of Duffy, she angered her father at last. “Where are your dresses, my daughter? Crom Cruach! You wear them out fast! Where are the chains that I bought you all wrought in red gold from the mine? Where the bright brooches of silver that once on your bosom would shine?” Ah, but ’twas he was the man that was proud of his name and his race, Proud of their prowess in battle and proud of their deeds in the chase! Knew not the Christ, the pale God Whom the priests from afar had brought in, Held to the old Gaelic gods that were known to Cuchullin and Finn. Brigid, the daughter of Duffy, made answer, “O father,” said she, “What is the richest of raiment, and what are bright jewels to me? Lepers of Christ must I care for, the hungry of Christ must I feed; How can I walk in rich robes when His people and mine are in need?” Ah, but ’twas she didn’t fear for herself when he blustered and swore, Meekly she bowed when he ordered his chariot brought to the door; Meekly obeyed when he bade her get in at the point of his sword, Knowing whatever her fate she’d be safe with her Lover and Lord.