In the dining hall
The men are fed
Each one staring
At the other's bread
Each one wishing
He had said
That which lived
In the other's head
No more time
And no more sound
Each one's eyeballs
Moving 'round
The meal is set
Their mouths grow wet
They gorge themselves on tender meat
Each one grows heavy in his seat
The sailors pay
A heavy toll
For that which they put in their bowl
A little meat
A little fish
Each man anchored
To his dish
Each one feeling
He's done well
When answering
The dinner bell
The meal is earned
The supper's bought
And each man sitting there
Thought not
They'd any more
Than they deserved