Dingley and Brent,
Wherever they went,
Ne'er minded a word that was spoken;
Whatever was said,
They ne'er troubled their head,
But laugh'd at their own silly joking.
Should Solomon wise
In majesty rise,
And show them his wit and his learning;
They never would hear,
But turn the deaf ear,
As a matter they had no concern in.
You tell a good jest,
And please all the rest;
Comes Dingley, and asks you, what was it?
And, curious to know,
Away she will go
To seek an old rag in the closet.
More verses by Jonathan Swift
- The Revolution At Market-Hill
- Dean Swift At Sir Arthur Acheson’s In The North Of Ireland
- To Lady Carteret
- On The Five Senses
- To Quilca, A Country-House In No Very Good Repair