“Now, the saints thee save, thou missionere, Gramercy; Zooks. Gadso! Thy haviour sure is somewhat queer. What would’st thou with me moe?” He fixed me with his glittering eye―― Of course, I knew he would―― And with his tale began to try To freeze my youthful blood. He said, “When I meet such as thou, To such my tale I teach; And watch the symptoms of a row While on myself I peach. “I have a gruesome tale to tell―― Saint Anne my guardian be! I’ve had a bare escape from――well, I’ve reached mine own countree.” I took him to a neighbouring inn, And gave him cups of wine, He drank them loth, as ’twere a sin―― And took sly swigs at mine. “Now, pitch thy tale, thou missionere, Or no more wine thou’lt see.” He answered, with a boozy leer, “Old crusted might it be! “I’ve come from far-off seas and lands, That own a pagan rule; And I have blood upon these hands―― ’Tis of an infant school. “And this was how it came to be; I went out to convert Folks in the South Pacific Sea; And to compel a spurt “On my part――getting every black From heathendom to cease―― Those who had sent me out――good lack! They paid me by the piece. “If I could get none to encase His lower limbs in breeches, Or use Pears’ soap on hands and face, My boss sent me no riches. “But ev’ry little pagan boy, Who clothed and washed himself, If certified by me with joy, Produced me certain pelf. “So, ’twas not strange, thou wedding guest”―― His playful name for me―― “That my parishioners were pressed Half civilised to be. “I thought to make a handsome sum With ev’ry new recruit; But black men all go wrong on rum; And women follow soot. “My only hope was in the young; Their tender minds and backs, I influenced with rod and tongue―― With homilies and whacks. “I had a school. Just half a score Th’ establishment contained; And ev’ry little blackamoor Was preached to――also caned. “I preached and caned, and caned and preached, Those children to despair. I thrashed them, though they all were breeched, For t’others who went bare, “They all committed suicide, While drinking sherry wine One swallowed glass and all, and died. For him needs must I pine, “One drowned himself while out to skate―― I pray you help my case―― 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. I slew that antient missionere, And forth his body cast; And happy school girls, void of fear, Jumped o’er him as they passed.