Ripped from the headlines of 1912, every poet should write about this subject.
Twenty-two hundred souls
Sailed on that fateful trip
Not even God himself
Could sink that unsinkable ship
The Captain lay dreaming
The Titanic was sinking
Beggin’ down upon her bended knee
To be swallowed by the endless sea
Ladies and gentlemen dressed in their Sunday best
The gentlemen gambled the night away
Diamonds sparkled in their gilded nests
Never to see the light of day
Women and children first, as the band played on
The morality play unfolded over a hundred years ago
Moans and wails and cries, silence by the dawn
There are still echoes as tho it was a brand new show
The Captain lay dreaming
The Titanic was sinking
Beggin’ down upon her bended knee
To be swallowed by the endless sea
Twenty-two hundred souls
Stared death in the face
Over fifteen hundred
Met their final resting place
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