The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the small island they call Cayo Hueso
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of Coors Light - 26,000 tons more
Than the Bobcat Matthews weighed empty
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early