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The Winter it is past

Language: Scottish (Scots)

The Winter it is past, 
and the summer comes at last,
And the small birds, they sing on ev'ry tree;
Now ev'ry thing is glad,
while I am very sad,
Since my true love is parted from me.

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


Translation(s): GER GER

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Submitted by Jean Branch

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Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

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Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.

Last modified: 2014-07-28 11:29:43
Line count: 12
Word count: 76

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