Ten Little Soldiers, Summarized in a Poem

"Ten little soldiers," the poem said

Every one would wind up dead.

So said the sampler in every room,

Forseeing each guest's most grisly doom.

On a shelf stood ten figurines

Their meanings were most plainly seen.

Ten guests they represented,

Ten guests who were resented.

Judge Wargrave, a crooked judge

General Macarthur, an army man with a grudge

Rogers and wife caused a loss of life

Anthony Marston drove people to strife

Emily Brent, to a fault, a prude

Phillip Lombard, a selfish dude

William Blore, a man of mystery

Dr. Armstrong, who did a drunken surgery

and Vera Claythorne, a neglectful nanny

Every victim was one of many

Criminals to whom no justice was served.

Each one got what they deserved.

Invitations from one "UNKNOWN"

Were sent to each, and in they'd flown

To Soldier Island, as known on the map

But in reality, a baited trap.

Soldier Island, a soldier's face,

So it resembled to those with taste.

Home to a celebrity dame,

So the falsehood fables claim.

Ten deaths within that place,

The culprit of which revealed no face.

For every death, a figurine cracked.

The lack of justice had left an impact.

Marston choked upon his drink.

Mrs. Rogers overslept, or so they think.

Macarthur was found with a blow to the skull

Rogers died by an axe not dull.

Brent was killed with the sting of a bee,

Armstrong washed up by the sea.

Blore, alas, was found just bearly

Wargrave was found in judge's livery.

In the end, but two guests remained.

Suspicions ran wild like a crazy train.

Vera shot Lombard in self defense

And hung herself on a supernatural pretense.

So foresaw a poem so gross,

That ten guests would wind up as toast.

The mastermind behind this plot

Had risen from the dead to harm this lot.

Determining his identity was hard

Despite the efforts of the Scotland Yard.

But a clue found in the ocean sludge

Revealed the culprit to be the judge.