Bailiwick of Guernsey |
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Island of beauty, my heart longs for thee. Thy voice calls me ever, in waking, or sleep, Till my soul cries with anguish, my eyes ache to weep. In fancy I see thee, again as of yore, Thy verdure clad hills and thy wave beaten shore. Thy rock sheltered bays, ah; of all thou art best, I'm returning to greet thee, dear island of rest. Sarnia Cherie. Gem of the sea. Home of my childhood, my heart longs for thee. Thy voice calls me ever, forget thee I'll never, Island of beauty. Sarnia Cherie. I left thee in anger, I knew not thy worth. Journeyed afar, to the ends of the earth. Was told of far countries, the heav'n of the bold, Where the soil gave up diamonds, silver and gold. The sun always shone, and race took no part, But thy cry always reached me, its pain wrenched my heart. So I'm coming home, thou of all art the best. Returning to greet thee, dear island of rest.  Location: Western Europe, islands in the English Channel, northwest of France |
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