On the coast of California, deep within a cave that's never seen.
Treasure, stolen from the Incas, we could capture for the Queen.
There's a mountain in the ocean on the coast of California and deep within its side the tides of night alone reveal
While the Spaniard, blind with pleasure plays ashore in Ensenada.
We will sail before the dawn along the coast of California. El Diego is delayed. The wine and woman hold their sway
And our map is clearly drawn to the dark and stormy shore.
On the coast of California lies a mighty prize of war.
Tell not a soul that you have seen me. Breathe not a word of what I say.
Tell not a soul that you have seen me. Breathe not a word of what I say.