“I’ve cast my spell on the nation. I’ve watched men come and go,
Near the shifting swell, I’ve hidden well my secret far below;
They’ve searched in vain for my treasure, lo, how I’ve made men sweat;
Breaking their hearts in frustration, moments they won’t forget,
There’s none of them know what’s hidden below, still they’ve toiled and
mucked ’till they’re broke,
And deep in the hole in the depths of my soul I’ve barred them with
platforms of Oak”.

I’ve tossed them away from my bosom, festered with shovel and pick,
And each time they tried, I sucked in the tide, turning them frightened
and sick;
Fleeing the depth of my angry soul, seeking the surface once more
Then leave me to peace until I’d release the water again to the shore;
Then back they came with new vigour, each time with the fall of the
tide,
Instead of my “meat”, they tasted defeat, and I laughed as I cast them
aside.

More than two hundred years I have hugged it, deep in my heart where
it’s hid;
Inside me it’s penned, it’s mine to defend, I promised I’d keep it for
Kidd,
He buried it there for a reason on a hill from my rocky shore,
Where the shoals would help me protect it in the pirate days of yore;

It’ mine to hold – the silver and gold nestled here in the peaceful
bay;
‘Though they’ve ripped me apart and picked at my heart – “I won’t be
won in a day.

“I’ve goaded men on with my mystery, by parchment, platforms and
drain,
With slivers of bone and inscribed stone, and golden links from a
chain;
All these they’ve found deep under the ground in the lantern’s golden
glare,
Ancient picks and oaken planks, and mats of coconut hair;
And I laughed as I watched them fondle, the trinkets plucked from my
breast,
As their drills whirled ’round in the clay and ground into my treasure
chest”.

“When are they going to beat me – who will be the first
To beat the tide and reach inside, to take the Gold they’ve cursed?
I’m growing old and tired, too long I’ve played the game;
Where once I held my head in pride, it’s hanging now in shame;
There’ll come once more to my rocky shore, someone who won’t be beat;
To HIM will I trust my treasures – HIM will “I glut with my meat”.