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

All you that are in love and cannot it remove
I pity all the pain that you endure
For experience let me know that your heart is full of woe
It's a woe that no mortal can endure
And straight I will repair to the Curragh of Kildare
For it's there I'll find tidings of my dear.

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