---

The winter it has passed
And the summer's come at last
The small birds are singing in the trees
And their little hearts are glad
Ah, but mine is very sad
For my true love is far away from me

And straight I will repair
To the Curragh of Kildare
For it's there I'll finds tidings of my dear

The rose upon the briar
By the water's running clear
Brings joy to the linnet and the bee
And their little hearts are blessed
But mine can know no rest
For my true love is absent from me

And straight I will repair
To the Curragh of Kildare
For it's there I'll finds tidings of my dear

All you who are in love
Aye and cannot it remove
I pity the pain that you endure
For experience lets me know
That your hearts are full of woe
It's a woe that no mortal can cure

And straight I will repair
To the Curragh of Kildare
For it's there I'll finds tidings of my dear

And straight I will repair
To the Curragh of Kildare
For it's there I'll finds tidings of my dear

---

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