I saw a vision in the night
Of where the stars are truest:
And woke amidst the Standing Stones
Out on the Isle of Lewis

My ancestors of yore, they dwelt
Here, in this very place:
And left us with the Callanish
And little other trace

In dreams I hear the harp of old
And walk here on this ground
The Isle of Lewis, bleak and cold
While glorious stars surround