I will recount each infant’s fate—”
“Now, out upon thy face.
“‘Ten little niggers!’ ’Tis too late
That well-worn tale to try,”
I cried, and on his hoary pate
Full lustily fell I.
I smote that antient missionere—
I smote him swift and sore,
I smote his glittering nose and ear
Full twenty times and more.