A poem by Thomas Thornburg

Down in Naptown, skipping in the breeze,
Sylvia Lykins, pretty as you please;

Sylvia Lykins, sing girls sing,
Jump up, double-dutch, jump and swing;

Down at the playground, by and by
Sylvia Lykins told a lie;

Somebody told her bad step-ma,
Silly got a lickin, ha, ha, ha;

How many licks did Silly score?
One, two, three, four,
Five, six, seven, eight;
Sylvia Lykins, tied to the gate;

Somebody told the teacher at school,
Somebody printing in the Golden Rule.

Yonder comes the Truant, knocking on the door
One, two, three, four,
Five, six, seven, eight,
Sylvia Lykins, don’t be late.

Put her in the bathtub, dress her nude,
Sylvia Lykins got tattooed;

How many words did Sylvia score?
One, two, three, four,
Five, six, seven, eight,
Sylvia Lykins, sure as Fate.

Down in the cellar where the rats do play
Sylvia Lykins used to stay;

Sylvia Lykins, down on her knees
Saying to the furnace her A B C’s;

One, two, three, four,
Sylvia Lykins, dead on the floor.

Editor’s note: In Indianapolis, Indiana, Sylvia Lykins was tortured and eventually killed over a period of months in 1965 by Gertrude Baniszewski and young people in the neighborhood who regularly hung around Baniszewski’s house. You can read The Indianapolis Star’s summary of the case here.