There is an isle, a northern land Where snow-clad mountains with jagged peaks Reach up to touch the midnight sun.
And the cold blue waves of Arctic seas Caress its frozen shores, the gentle ripples Turn to ice under the midnight sun.
Sleek seals lie asleep in the ice, On floes that hide the secrets of the deep From the probing glare of the minight sun.
The wind breathes icy blasts across the Polar wastes, And the island shivers in its path, For there’s little warmth in the midnight sun.
Darkness all too soon will fall, enveloping the isle In the blackness of winter’s endless night, Until the promised return of the midnight sun.