THE CURRAGH OF KILLDARE
The Winter time is passed, And the Summer's here at last, And small birds are singin' in the trees. Their little hearts are glad, Oh but mine is very sad, For my true love is far away from me.
A livery I will wear, And I'll straighten back my hair. In velvet so green I will appear. And it's then I will repair To the Curragh of Killdare, For it's there I'll find tidings of my dear.
All you who are in love, And cannot it remove, I pity all the pain that you endure. For experience lets me know, that your hearts are full of woe- It's a pain that no mortal can endure.
The rose upon the briar, And the water running free, Gives joy to the linnet and the bee. Their little hearts are glad, Oh but mine is very sad, For my true love is absent from me.