You’ve done it. I’ve done it. We’ve all stood in a circle, pointing a finger at various sneakers, chanting those nonsense syllables to decide who has to be "it" or who gets the last slice of pizza. Eenie meenie minie mo feels as innocent as a juice box. It’s the universal playground gavel. But if you actually stop and look at where these words came from, the "innocence" starts to feel a bit shaky.
Most people think it’s just gibberish. It isn't.
Rhymes like this are sticky. They travel across oceans and survive for centuries because they serve a basic human need: making a choice without taking the blame for it. It’s "fate" in the form of a doggerel. Yet, the version you probably learned in the 90s or 2000s is a cleaned-up, sanitized ghost of a much more aggressive—and often racist—past. History is messy like that.
Where did the words actually come from?
If you try to trace the linguistic roots of eenie meenie minie mo, you'll end up in a rabbit hole of Old English, Welsh, and even ancient counting systems used by shepherds. Some folklore experts, like Iona and Peter Opie, who basically wrote the bible on children’s street games (The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren), suggest the rhyme is part of a massive family of "counting-out" rituals.
Think about the numbers.
- Hana, mana, mona, mike (Old New York version)
- Eena, deena, dina, duss (Common in Connecticut around 1800)
- Pippin, pan, para, pin
There is a theory that these are remnants of the "Anglo-Cymric Score." These were counting systems used by shepherds in Northern England and Scotland to count sheep. If you look at the Welsh numbers for one, two, three, and four—un, dau, tri, pedwar—you can sort of hear the phonetic skeleton of our modern rhyme. It was a tool for work long before it was a tool for play.
But it wasn't just for sheep. In some darker interpretations, these rhymes were used in "selection" processes that were far higher stakes. I’m talking about "counting out" who would have to perform a dangerous task in a mine or on a ship.
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The elephant in the room: The 19th-century transformation
This is where the history gets uncomfortable. Around the mid-1800s, especially in the United States and parts of the UK, the "tiger" in eenie meenie minie mo wasn't a tiger.
It was a racial slur.
As the rhyme surged in popularity during the era of minstrel shows, the lyrics were adapted to reflect the prevailing racism of the time. This wasn't some underground version; it was the standard. Rudyard Kipling, the guy who wrote The Jungle Book, actually referenced the rhyme in his work "A Counting-Out Song," acknowledging its ubiquity.
The transition from the slur to "tiger" didn't happen overnight. It was a slow, cultural scrubbing that really took hold in the mid-20th century as social sensibilities shifted. By the time most of us were on the playground, the tiger had been firmly installed. Occasionally, you’ll hear "chicken" or "monkey," but "tiger" won the branding war.
It’s a classic example of "linguistic bleaching." We take a word or phrase with a horrific origin and wash it until it's just a pale, harmless version of itself. Does that mean you’re a bad person for using it to pick a movie on Netflix? Probably not. But it’s worth knowing that the "toe" we’re catching once belonged to a person in a much more violent context.
Why it still works (Psychologically speaking)
Why don't we just flip a coin? Or use a random number generator?
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There’s something deeply satisfying about the rhythm. Eenie meenie minie mo follows a specific meter—it’s mostly trochaic. That "DA-da, DA-da, DA-da" beat is hypnotic. It creates a sense of inevitability. When you’re the one pointing the finger, you feel like an agent of destiny.
Kids love it because it’s a fair way to handle conflict. In a world where adults make all the rules, a rhyme is a neutral third party. It’s the "algorithm" of the 19th century. Interestingly, kids often "cheat" by starting the rhyme on a specific person to ensure the "mo" lands where they want it. They internalize the length of the rhyme—usually 16 beats—and do the math in their heads without even realizing it.
Global Variations of the Choice Rhyme
It’s not just an English thing. Every culture has its own version of this psychological relief valve.
- France: They use "Plouf, plouf," which mimics the sound of a stone hitting water.
- Denmark: "Eenie, meenie, mingt, mangt" (close to ours, but with a Germanic twist).
- Latin America: "Tin marín de do pingüé." It’s equally nonsensical and equally effective.
- Japan: "Aburabouzu," which involves a monk and oil.
The common thread? Nonsense. We use nonsense to make sense of a choice. When the stakes are low, we don't want logic. We want a chant.
The Pop Culture Controversy
Because of its roots, eenie meenie minie mo has actually caused some real-world trouble in recent years. You might remember the incident with Reebok or the controversy surrounding a certain scene in The Walking Dead.
When Negan, the villain in The Walking Dead, used the rhyme to decide which character to kill with his baseball bat, it sparked a massive debate. For some, it was just a creepy villain move. For others who knew the history, it felt like a dog-whistle to a more violent, exclusionary past.
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Then there was the 2004 Southwest Airlines incident. A flight attended jokingly said over the intercom, "Eenie meenie minie mo, please sit down it's time to go." She was trying to get passengers to find their seats quickly. Two African American passengers sued, citing the rhyme's racist origins. The court eventually ruled in favor of the airline, stating the attendant didn't intend malice, but it served as a wake-up call. Many people had no idea the "tiger" was a replacement.
Does the rhyme have a future?
Language evolves. That’s just what it does. We don’t say "thou" anymore, and we don’t use "eenie meenie" the way people did in 1850.
Today, the rhyme is being replaced in some circles by "Bubble gum, bubble gum, in a dish" or "Sky blue, who are you?" These are "cleaner" because they don't carry the baggage of the 19th century. They are pure nonsense from the jump.
However, eenie meenie minie mo is likely here to stay for a while. It’s embedded in our movies, our music (looking at you, Justin Bieber and Sean Kingston), and our collective childhood memory.
Actionable Takeaways for the Curious
If you're going to use the rhyme or teach it, here is how to handle the complexity of it in 2026.
- Know the version you're using. Stick to "tiger" or "nickel." If you hear an older relative using a different version, it’s a good opening for a history lesson rather than just a shout-out.
- Teach the "why." If you have kids, explain that rhymes are how we used to count things before calculators. It turns a simple game into a lesson on how language changes.
- Check the rhythm. If you want to "win" the choice, remember it’s a 16-beat cycle. If there are two of you, and you start on yourself, you will always end on the other person. Start on the other person to end on yourself.
- Explore alternatives. If the history of this specific rhyme feels too heavy, try the "Counting-out" variations from other cultures. "Amsel, Drossel, Fink und Star" from Germany is a fun one about birds.
Ultimately, eenie meenie minie mo is a linguistic fossil. It’s a piece of the past that we keep in our pockets and pull out when we can’t decide between the blue shirt or the red one. It’s a reminder that even the simplest things we do—like picking who goes first in tag—are connected to hundreds of years of human migration, labor, and social change.
The next time you catch a tiger by the toe, just remember: you're participating in a ritual that’s much older, and much weirder, than you think.
Research Sources & Further Reading:
- The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes by Iona and Peter Opie.
- The Counting-Out Rhymes of Children by Henry Carrington Bolton (A classic 1888 study).
- Linguistic analysis of the "Anglo-Cymric Score" provided by the Yorkshire Dialect Society.