Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.
Though the fields lay golden
In the morning, very early,
That's the time I love to go
Barefoot where the fern grows curly
And grass is cool between each toe,
On a summer morning-O!
On a summer morning!
If once you have slept on an island
You'll never be quite the same;
You may look as you looked the day before
And go by the same old name,