Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Bert Jansch
Oh, the winter has passed
And the summer's come at last
And the small birds are singing in the trees
Oh, their little hearts are glad
Ah, but mine is very sad
For my true love is far away from me
Her ribbons I'll wear
And I'll comb back my hair
In garlands of green I will appear
And it's straight I will go there
To the Curragh of Kildare
For it's there that I'll find tidings of my dear
Oh, the rose and the briar
And the waters running clear
Bring joy to the linnet and the bee
Oh, their little hearts are glad
Ah, but mine is very sad
For my true love is far away from me
Oh, you who are in love
And cannot it remove
I pity the pain you do endure
For experience lets me know
That your hearts are full of woe
It's a woe that no mortal man can cure
Oh, the winter has passed
And the summer's come at last
The small birds are singing in the trees
Oh, their little hearts are glad
Ah, but mine is very sad
For my true love is far away from me
The Curragh of Kildare was written by Traditional.