From the swamp, shots were heard
Now Edgar Watson’s dead for sure
Gunned down by the town
Of Chokoloskee
A buttonwood campfire takes the chill
But leaves the ghosts to whisper at will
Gumbo-limbo’s mark the graves
Of Indians and renegades-
in the shadows of the Glades.
CHORUS
Swamp angels still live on
In memory of all those gone
Indian mounds and oyster beds
Stone crabs and fish called reds
Ten thousand islands surrounding me
The natives call it Chokoloskee
The old home of the Seminoles
Soon gave way to fishing poles
The rest is history
Way down in Chokoloskee
CHORUS
Way down in Chocoloskee

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