The Curragh of Kildare

Thewinter it ispast and thesummer's come atlast

And small birds aresinging in the trees

Their little hearts areglad butmine is verysad

For mytrue love isfar away fromme

All you that are in love and cannot it remove

I pity the pain that you indure

For experience lets me know that your hearts are full of woe

It's a woe that no mortal can endure

A livery I will wear and I'll comb back my hair

In velvet so green I will appear

And it's then I will repair to the Curragh of Kildare

For it's there I; ll find tidings of my dear

The rose upon the briar and the water running free

Gives joy to the linnet and the bee

Their little hearts are blessed but mine is not at rest

For my true love is absent from me.