Index of First Lines

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As I've served the Goddess over all these years,
As the Green Man grows to harvest
Crystal light, the Dragon's might, pulling down the silver light
Hang your head down heavy like the barley grain,
First they took my gold, and then they took my land
Gabhaim Molta Bride
Green the corn grows, John Barley wakes from slumber;
I am Eagle
I'll sing you one–ho
In ancient lands, in lands so far away -- Diana, Demeter, Astarte
Into the morning rises the Sun
Maybe if I just don't turn
Praise we all Saint Brigid
Quarters call we to this place
The silent cold of autumn turns the mist to jewels of white,
Sing we praise to Brigid - Praise the Worth of Spring-time
Sing we praise to Brigid: - Springtime's worthy praises;
This time, three years ago, you made an error;
When first she came among them

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