The Dark Island.
Away to the Westward I m longing to be
Where the beauties of heaven unfold by the sea
Where the sweet purple heather runs fragrant and free
On a hill top high above the Dark Island.
Oh Isle of my childhood I m dreaming of thee
As the steamer leaves Oban and passes Tiree
Soon I ll capture the magic that lingers for me
When I m back once more upon the Dark Island
So gentle the sea breeze that ripples the bay
Where the stream joins the ocean, and young children play
On the strand of pure silver, I ll welcome each day
And I ll roam forever more the Dark Island
True gem of the Hebrides bathed in the light
Of the midsummer dawning that follows the night
How I yearn for the cries of the seagulls in flight
As they circle high above the Dark Island
