Someday, you'll marry a banker,
And I will be lost at sea,
And on a breakfast morning looking past your cup of tea,
At the bottom of page forty three,
In print of funeral black,
The story of a ship,
That on an ocean trip...
                                     ...did slip...
                                                     ...beneath the waves.

A list of names of those not saved,
Accompany these lines.
Your eyes lightly scan the page,
Til they come to rest on mine.

Your husband, looking from his plate, says,
"Do I see a tear?"
Startled, you quickly turn your head.
"Oh...its nothing, Dear."