In sight of Three Islands our worn out pumps started to fail
While taking on water in a fierce winter gale
The froth on the sea and the and shifting fog in the air
Chilled every crewman to the bone with a dread sense of fear

She was a rusty old freighter registered as “El Diablo”
On calm seas at full steam she barely could go
The rum sodden Captain said we’ll head in to shore
When she crunched on the rocks we were finished for sure

The life boats were leaky and rusted on deck
Life jackets were rotten and torn at the neck
Some jumped from the railing to die in the cold
Others bravely stood praying so proud and so bold

Some called to their maker, some called to their mothers
Some called to their children sisters and brothers
Their cries of despair were drowned by the storm’s rage
There wasn’t a hope to survive so they wrote their last page

The few left behind oh so tired and weak
Tied ourselves to the railings and no one could speak
The ship rocked and rolled like a washing machine
But held fast to the rocks like nothing I’d seen

The sun pierced the horizon as the winds wore themselves out
We undid the ropes and we looked all about
The ship was in pieces and flotsam drifted all round
So many dead bodies so few alive could be found

We heard folks from the shore, saw them launching a boat
We waited shivering in the cold amazed we still were afloat
Out of forty three men including officers and crew
Only four were surviving and thanking God all anew

On the hill on Three Islands the reverend said a few prayers
We lowered their pine boxes and wiped away our tears
The wife’s grieve like a blanket wrapped round mourners hearts
Staring out at the skeleton of “El Diablo’s” last few parts.