My dearest Violet, too soon laid to rest
As the paper claimed your name on the manifest
Maybe it's a mistake, some crossing of the wires
And you are at tea back home in Southamptonshire
Not lost to the blue, the deep lonesome blue
Oh, how I pray that this news is untrue
For I have no keepsakes, I have no souvenirs 
I have nothing to show how blue-green your eyes were dear
And I have no headstone, no relic of loss
I have not even two sticks for a ramshackle cross
I have only the waves, I have only the waves
It's as if the ocean itself were some mighty grave
I have only the waves, I have only the waves
It's as if the ocean itself were some mighty grave