Awaiting the dawn sat three prisoners wary,
A trio of brigands named Tom, Dick and Mary.
Sunrise would signal the death knell of two;
Just one would survive, the question was who.

Young Mary sat thinking and finally spoke.
To the jailer she said, “You may think this a joke,
But it seems that my odds of surviving till tea
Are clearly enough just one out of three.

But one of my cohorts must certainly go,
Without question, that’s something I already know.
Telling the name of one who is lost
Can’t possibly help me. What could it cost?”

The shriveled old jailer himself was no dummy.
He thought, “But why not?” and pointed to Tommy.
“Now it’s just Dick and me!” Mary chortled with glee,
“One in two are my chances, and not one in three!”

Imagine the jailer’s chagrin, that old elf.
She’d tricked him. Or had she? Decide for yourself.

— Richard E. Bedient, “The Prisoner’s Paradox Revisited,” American Mathematical Monthly, March 1994