G Em C D The winter it is past and the summers come at lastBm Am D And the birds they are singing in the treesC G Am D Their little hearts are glad but mine is very sadG Am D For my true love is far away from me.G Em C D The rose upon the brier, by the water running clearBm D Gives joy to the linnet and the beeC G Am D Their little hearts are blessed but mine is not at restG Am D For my true love is absent from me.C G Am D And its straight I will repair to the Curragh of KildareG Am D For its there Ill find tidings of my dear. All you that are in love and cannot it remove I pity the pains you endure, For experience let me know, that your hearts are full of woe And a woe that no mortal can endure.
The Curragh Of Kildare
Christy Moore
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Tom: