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The wintCer it has passed and the summer's come at lFast, G
and the birds G7they are singing in Cthe trees. G
And their littleG hearts are glad, but minCe is very saFd, G
for my true lCove is far away Ffrom me. G
The roseC upon the briar by the water's running cleFar G
gives joyG7 to the linnetC and the bee. G
Their littGle hearts are blessed, buCt mine, it?s not aFddressed, G
for my true lCove is absent frFom me. G
And it?s straighG7t I will repair to tChe Curragh of KiFldare, G
for it's thereC I'll find tidinFgs of my dear. G
All youC that are in love and cannot it remoFve, G
I G7pity the painCs that you endure. G
For experienGce lets me know that your heCarts are full of woe, F G
and a woe thCat no mortal can enFdure. G
And it?s straighG7t I will repair to tChe Curragh of KiFldare, G
for it's thereC I'll find tidinFgs of my dear. G
And it?s straighG7t I will repair to tChe Curragh of KiFldare, G
for it's thereC I'll find tidinFgs of my dear. G
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