Harsh land of oystercatcher, wren and water pipit cries
that shouts defiance to the windy, wheeling skies
To reach you is to risk a journey bourn by fate
To find an island where ‘keep out’ shouts from every gate

And in the middle of this craggy, lush green isle
a building that must make the devil smile
A light house that could only warn a passing ship too late
to stop it crashing on the rocks and meeting with its fate

But in this secret isle that scorns the busy world
the oystercatcher, wren and swallows, wings unfurled
cry freedom from the busy wasteful time of men
and make me want to come back here and see it all again

For warm hearts dwell in this harsh land, there’s food the music here
Create, create, this island cries, survive and have a care
to put more in than you take out, to make a better place
of this harsh land that protects a warm and welcome space