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The Dark Island.

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Away to the Westward I'm longing to be
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Where the beauties of heaven unfold by the sea
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Where the sweet purple heather runs fragrant and free
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On a hill top high above the Dark Island.

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Oh Isle of my childhood I'm dreaming of thee
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As the steamer leaves Oban and passes Tiree
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Soon I'll capture the magic that lingers for me
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When I'm back once more upon the Dark Island

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So gentle the sea breeze that ripples the bay
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Where the stream joins the ocean, and young children play
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On the strand of pure silver, I'll welcome each day
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And I'll roam forever more the Dark Island

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True gem of the Hebrides bathed in the light
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Of the midsummer dawning that follows the night
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How I yearn for the cries of the seagulls in flight
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As they circle high above the Dark Island
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