Everyone needs a place
Where they can find a center
A place where the feelings can run free.
A place of warmth and sanity,
Of friendship, clan, and family
And you – are all of that to me.

Oh yes! There’s the ocean,
The hills and the heather
The history, the colors,
and the misty stormy weather.
But that’s all a part of me
There’s something still that’s calling me
Endearing my native land to me.

I have oft resisted missing you
And fought off feelings washing through,
Reminding of a place I couldn’t stay.
For changes uncontrolled by me,
Dictate a different destiny
Midwestern life - many thousand miles away.

There’s a game that I play
In the context of my working day.
I close my eyes in private whiles
And I travel through my memories there
To a hillside, by the ocean, where
The Sound of Sleat surrounds my Western Isles.

There’s a map of Scotland
At home, upon my wall.
I place my finger there when I’m feeling blue.
And I know that when I’m dying,
That my soul it will be flying
Home to Scotland, before my travel’s through.

It really is no mystery, it’s always been so clear to me
that you - are - a native land to me.