The winter has passed And the summer's come at last The small birds are singing in the trees Their little hearts are glad Ah, but mine is very sad For my true love is far away from me The ribbons I'll wear And I'll comb back my hair And gallants I bring I will appear And straight I will go there To the Curragh of Kildare For it's there that I'll find tidings of my dear All you who are in love Aye and cannot it remove I pity the pain you do endure For experience lets me know That your hearts are filled of woe It's a woe that no mortal man can cure The rose upon the briar And the water's running clear Brings joy to the linnet and the bee Their little hearts are blessed And but mine can know no rest For my true love is far away from me Winter has passed And the summer's come at last The small birds are singing in the trees Their little hearts are glad Ah, but mine is very sad For my true love is far away from me