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The winter it is past, and the summer’s come at last
And the small birds are singing in the trees,
Now everything is glad, oh but I am very sad,
For my true love is parted from me.

The rose upon the briar, by the water running clear,
May have charms for the linnet and the bee;
Their little loves are blest, ah their little hearts at rest,
But my true love is parted from me.

And all you who 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 cure.

My love is like the sun
And the firmament does run
Forever is constant and true
But his is like the moon
It wanders up and doon (doon-down)
And is every month changing anew.

The winter is past, and the summer’s come at last
And the small birds are singing in the trees,
Their little loves are blest, oh their little hearts at rest,
But my true love is far away from me.

My true love is far away from me