winter is past and summer is come at last and the small birds are singing in the trees their little hearts are glad ah, but mine is very sad for my true love's far away from me all you that 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 woe that no mortal can endure ribbons I'll wear and I'll comb back my hair and in velvet so 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 oh, the winter is past 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's far away from me