lirik lagu celtic fiddle festival - the dark island
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away to the westward
i’m longing to be,
where the beauties of heaven
unfold by the sea;
where the sweet purple heather blooms
fragrant and free
on a hilltop high above
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 for every more,
the dark island
true gem of the herbrides,
bathed in the light,
of the mid-summer dawning,
that follows the night;
how i yearn for the cries,
of the seagulls in flight,
as they circle above
the dark island
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