The winter it has passed
And the summer's come at last
And the birds, they 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 rose upon the briar
By the water running clear
Givess joy to the linnet and the bee
Their little hearts are blessed
But mine, it's not at rest
For my true love is absent from me

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

All you that are in love
And and cannot it remove
I pity the pains that you endure
For experience lets me know
That your hearts are full with woe
And a woe that no mortal can endure

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