Isle of Islay

Verse 1

How high the gulls fly o'er Islay, How sad the farm land deep in plague, Felt like the grain on your sand.

Verse 2

How well the sleep's bill music makes, Roving the cliffs where fancy takes Felt like a tide left me here.

Verse 3

How blessed the forest with birds song, How neat the cut peat laid so long, Fell like a seed on your land.

Verse 4

Felt like a tide left me here, Felt like a grain on your sand, Felt like a grain on your sand.