Historical Folk Lyrics
"The Curragh Of Kildare"

The winter it is past, and the summer's come at last.
The small birds are singing in the trees;
Their little hearts are glad, oh but mine is very sad,
For my true love is far away from me.

The rose and the brier and the the water running by
Are heaven for the linnet and the bee.
Their little hearts are blessed, oh but mine is not at rest,
For my true love is far away from me.

A livery I will wear and I'll comb back my hear
And in a velvet green I will appear
And it's straight I will go there to the Curragh of Kildare,
For it's there I'll find tidings of my dear.

I'll wear a cap of black with a frill around my neck,
Gold rings on each finger I will wear.
It's this I undertake for my own true love's sake;
She resides at the Curragh of Kildare.

My love is like the sun that in the firmament doth run
And always proves so constant and so true;
But hers is like the moon that wanders up and down
And each month becomes something quite new.