(from Tchaikovsky’s String Quartet in D Major,
Andante Cantabile movement)
From Sinatra’s Vol. 3: 1939-1940
We strolled along through the heather,
And it was June, June on the isle of May.
Your lips were sweet as the heather
Always in bloom, there on the isle of May.
There in your eyes, heaven opened its doors
When like a fool I sailed away.
But our love will bring us together
When it is June, June on the isle of May.