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The city's grim snow flakes - swirl my memory,
My island home beckons - from over the sea;
The east wind is calling - her daughters and sons,
Calling out from our island - for us to come home.
I'll see all my kinfolk - that I knew as a child,
I'll roam 'long the seashores - I explored as a boy;
Yes, a pretty girl waits there - and I'll reach for her hand,
And I'll be back home, Lord - rest this ramblin' man.
Oh, this is my island, so dear, Lord, to me,
Enchanting in her beauty and her sounds of the sea;
Though where're I may wander, though where're I may roam,
I'll go back to my island, to my island home.
I can't help but wonder - why I left her at all,
To leave such a loving place - so hard to recall;
I thought I should fly, Lord, - yes, I just had to go,
But now I am back here - in the place I love so.
Oh, this is my island, so dear, Lord, to me,
Enchanting in her beauty and her sounds of the sea;
Though where're I may wander, though where're I may roam,
I'll go back to my island, to my island home.
Though where're I may wander, though where're I may roam,
I'll go back to my island, to my island home.
