Ten little soldier boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were Nine. Nine little soldier boys sat up very late; One oversle… - Agatha Christie
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Ten little soldier boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were Nine. Nine little soldier boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were Eight. Eight little soldier boys travelling in Devon; One said he’d stay there and then there were Seven. Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were Six. Six little soldier boys playing with a hive; A bumble bee stung one and then there were Five. Five little soldier boys going in for law; One got in Chancery and then there were Four. Four little soldier boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three. Three little soldier boys walking in the Zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were Two. Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was One. One little soldier boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself and then there were None.
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About
Agatha Christie
Dame Agatha Mary Clarissa Christie (15 September 1890 – 12 January 1976) was an English author of detective fiction.
Biography information from
Wikiquote·
Portrait adapted from
Wikimedia Commons, Joop van Bilsen for Anefo (Public domain / CC0)
Also Known As
Pen Names:
Mary Westmacott
Birth Name:
Agatha Mary Clarissa Miller
Native Name:
Dame Agatha Mary Clarissa Christie, Lady Mallowan, DBE
Also Known As:Duchess of Death•Mistress of Mystery•Queen of Crime
Alternative Names:
Agatha Mary Clarissa Christie
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Dame Agatha Mary Clarissa Christie
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Agatha Christie Mallowan
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Lady Mallowan
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Agatha Mary Clarissa Mallowan
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Dame Agatha (Mary Clarissa) Christie
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Agatha Christie Mallowa
Iris was too languid and too used to Mrs. Drake’s discursive style to inquire why the mention of Dr. Gaskell should have reminded her aunt of the local grocer, though had she done so, she would have received the immediate response: “Because the grocer’s name is Cranford, my dear.” Aunt Lucilla’s reasoning was always crystal clear to herself.
I have, let me confess it in all humility, a pitiful human wish that someone should know just how clever I have been
"...A brave new world. There isn't anything really like that, is there?" "You don't believe in it?" "Do you?" "There is always a brave new world," said Poirot, "but only, you know, for very special people. The lucky ones. The ones who carry the making of that world within themselves."
