Well, it's four o'clock in the afternoon and the anchors have been weighed.
From Miami to Nassau, she's bound across the waves.
She'll be heading south through Biscayne Bay into the open sea,
Yarmouth Castle, she's a-dying and don't know it.
Now the many years she's been to sea, she's seen the better times.
She gives a groan of protest as they cast away her lines.
And the grumble of her engines and the rust along her spine
tells the Castle she's too old to be sailing.
But the sands run out within her heart, a tiny spark glows red.
It smolders through the evening, there's laughter overhead.
Now the men are served, and the cards are dealt and the drinks are passed around,
deep within the fire starts a-burning.
Now it's midnight on the open sea and the moon is shining bright.
Some people join the party and others say good-night.
There's many who are sleeping now, it's been a busy day and a tiny wisp of smoke is a-rising.
"Oh Lord," she groans, "I'm burning! Let someone understand!"
But her silent plea is wasted in the playing of the band.
Everybody's dancing on her deck and they're having such a time,
then a voice says "Shut up and deal, I'm losing."
Deep within the Yarmouth Castle, the fire begins to glow.
It leaps into the hallways and climbs and twists and grows.
And the paint she wore to keep her young, oh Lord, how well it burns
and soon that old fire is a-raging.
Up beneath the bridge it's climbing fast, the captain stands aloft.
He calls up to the boatswain, and says, "Boatswain, we are lost."
For the ragged hoses in the racks, no pressure do they hold
and the people down below will soon be dying.
All amidships, oh she's blazing now, it's spreading fore and aft.
The people are a-scrambling as the fire blocks their path.
The evil smoke surrounds them, and they're falling in their tracks
and the captain in his lifeboat is a-leaving.
Oh then the ship, Bahama Star comes steaming through the night,
she sees the Castle blazing and 'tis a terrible sight.
"Jump down, jump down!" the captain cries, "We'll save you if we can!"
Then the paint on his funnels is a-frying.
"God help the ones who sleep below and cannot find the way.
Thank God for those we've rescued upon this awful day."
Now the heroes, they are many, but the times are growing slim
and now from stern to bow, she's a-blazing.
Oh the Yarmouth Castle's moaning, she's crying like a child.
You can hear her if you listen above the roar so wild.
Is she crying for the ones who lie within her molten sides?
Or crying for herself, I'm a-wondering.
But the living soon were rescued, the ones who lived to tell,
from the Star they watched her as she died there in the swells.
Like a toy ship on a millpond, she burned all through the night.
Then slipped beneath the waves in the morning.