Old neighbour Ding...

My mum delighted Harriet and Emelia (and us) when she recited this poem to them when Mum and Dad where here at the start of September.  It was taught her by her old aunt, and I've googled it without success.

Enjoy!
Old neighbour Ding and old neighbour Dong
Each owned a garden about – ‘so’ long
With nothing between the two to divide,
Save a short gravel path about 'so' wide.
Now these two old neighbours, like neighbourly neighbours,
Shared in each other’s gardening labours.
 
Flowers as bright as a skylark’s song
Bloomed in the gardens of Ding and Dong.
A thousand sweet and fragrant scents
Were wafted up to these two old gents,
And all was calm as a grazing cow,
Till one of the men started a row.
 
Old neighbour Ding declared, with precision,
It was old neighbour Dong’s turn to weed that division.
Old neighbour Dong said he’d see Ding to Bath
Before he’d weed that wretched old path.
Ding added a dozen to each word of Dong’s,
And soon they were going it, hammer and tongs.
 
They argued away, till each was so weak,
They could only gesticulate, neither could speak.
Then looking their scorn, and with uplifted chin,
They retired to their rooms and shut themselves in.
Each vowed in his heart he’d not weed that path
Till the other came round and repented his wrath.
 
Oh the days grew so long for old Dong and old Ding.
They forgot how to whistle, they forgot how to sing.
They’d gaze through the window, they’d stand at the door,
Each aching and longing for friendship once more.
In fact their old hearts were just ready to burst,
But each was too proud, by far, to speak first.
 
Down on the pathway, so narrow and straight
The weeds put in overtime, early and late,
They grew in profusion, so thick and so green
Until not a vestige of path could be seen.
And then, they spread all over the garden,
But still neither man would beg t’other’s pardon.
 
But old neighbour Ding, like a sensible man,
Scratched the top of his head, while he thought out a plan.
For a long time he scratched, looking worried and grave,
Then all of a sudden, he had a brainwave.
His face lit up, like sun after showers,
As he thought how he’d save his beautiful flowers.
 
 
When the hours had arrived for retiring to rest,
To deceive neighbour Dong, old Ding did his best:
He banged to the window, he banged to the door,
Took off his boots, dropped them bang on the floor,
Then he made a loud noise, like an elephant roaring,
Just to make neighbour Dong think he was in bed and snoring.
 
Down on the pathway, Ding muffled a sneeze
And soon he was down on his hands and his knees.
So glad to be out of neighbour Dong’s vision
He started in earnest to weed that division.
It was too dark to see, but his feelings were good,
And he pulled out those weeds just as fast as he could.
 
Then all of a sudden, old Ding had a fright:
There, right before him, two eyes shining bright!
But before he could call to his neighbour in bed,
Something hard as a brick struck his shiny bald head.
Down on the pathway he fell like a stone
Unable to utter a cry or a groan.
 
When he came to himself he was lying in bed
And old neighbour Dong was bathing his head.
Forgetting his grudge, old Ding, he spoke first:
‘What hit me?” he said. “Please tell me the worst.”
Then out laughed old Dong, “By this bump on my brow,
“’Twas my head that hit you, most strange, I allow.”
 
Yes friends it is, as you may have been taught,
In two minds there’s sometimes but one single thought:
Each had planned that same evening that pathway to weed,
Not letting the other one know of his deed.
One had started at the bottom, and one at the top,
Till they bumped their old heads, and came to a stop.
 
Now these two old neighbours, like neighbourly neighbours,
Share once again in their gardening labours.
But alas they found it was beyond all their powers
To save all their choice and beautiful flowers.
They’d died from neglect – all because of a quarrel:
I’ll leave it to you, friends, to work out the moral.