A rather morbid Bengali counting poem.

 The ten sons of Haradhan were going on fine.
One goes missing.
So now remains nine.

The nine sons of Haradhan were chopping trees straight.
One gets chopped up.
So now remains eight.

 The eight sons of Haradhan were in pig-out heaven.
One tummy bursts out.
So now remains seven.

The seven sons of Haradhan were taking long dips.
One drowns and dies.
So now remains six.

  The six sons of Haradhan climb a tree for beehive.
One trips and falls.

So now remains five.

 

 

 The five sons of Haradhan went camping outdoor.
Tiger eats one.
So now remains four.

 The four sons of Haradhan were just dancing, you see.
One slips and dies.
So now remains three.

  The three sons of Haradhan join a fishing crew.
Whale eats one.
So now remains two.

 The two sons of Haradhan were catching frogs for fun.
Snake bites one.
So now remains one.

 The last son of Haradhan couldn't but cry.
He went to the jungle.
Mostly to die.

Note: Haradhan means 'Lost Treasure / Son'. Illustrated by me. A sung version of the original Bengali one, here.