Skip to content
1667–1745

HERRINGS

Jonathan Swift

Be not sparing, Leave off swearing. Buy my herring Fresh from Malahide,

Better never was tried. Come, eat them with pure fresh butter and mustard, Their bellies are soft, and as white as a custard. Come, sixpence a-dozen, to get me some bread,

Or, like my own herrings, I soon shall be dead.

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.
HERRINGS · Jonathan Swift · Poetry Cove