Upon Mr BOBARD'S Yew-men of the Guards to the PHYSIC GARDEN:  
To the Tune of The Counter-Scuffle.  

NO more let Statues Stone, or Brass,  
(Figures of half a Horse, half Ass,  
Or Ana Bull and Man, which was a Centaur:)   

Nor those two Giants, dreadful sight,  
Which in Guildhall stand grim, and fright  
The City lads work day and night by Indenture:   

Nor yet the Highgate- Hercules,  
In Garden of the good Marquis,  
Compare with Bobard, or with these High-Germen.   

German, said I? no, Greenlanders;  
Greener then any Whales, or Bears,  
Or those Green-men on Shows of Mayors do scare men   

With Weels of fire, and filthy smoke,  
Which would a Chimney-sweeper choke,  
And are as black as Pluto's Cloak i'th' Ballad.   

But these are Sons of Ihon-a-Greene,  
As green as Leek was ever seen,  
Or any herbs that are picked clean for Salad.   

'Tis true, that Garragantua  
(A Giant Rabelais made, they say)  
When Physiick-books, could not get Whey To's belly.   

That Giant and his hollow tooth,  
Got credit with Ladies, forsooth;  
But that is fiction, these are truth, I tell ye.   

Let such phantistick things be dumb,  
Rawhead and Bloody bones, Tom Thumb,  
All Monsters in submission come, and wonder   

At these two Giants, which do grow,  
And are alive, as we do know,  
And fear nor heat, not storms, nor snow, nor thunder.   

'Tis to be feared they'll grow so high,  
Their heads will reach unto the sky,  
I'll promise you, they're very nigh at present:   

But jacob with his Garden-sheeres,  
For fear of Heaven-Combaters,  
Will not permit their heads nor ears too crescent.   

They stand as stout as Troopers Moss,  
Ivy-Hinksey, or Bednall-cross,  
Or Adam, after his sweet loss in Fig-leaves.   

Magnetic Trees, which draw the Town,  
The Country and the learned Gown,  
So many go not up and down where Trigg lives.   

What names to give them, is my work;  
Shall they be Saracen, or Turk?  
Those Knights that lie in Templars Kirk are Noddies   

To these tall men of mighty race,  
With Murrian Head, and Murrian Face;  
Let's call 'em as the Rump late was, Custodes:   

A name Old Nick bestowed on them,  
Builders of New jesusalem,  
Which broke the Royal Diadem, and Maces;   

And ruin'd all in a mad storm,  
(Which they miscalled to reform)  
But took our Goods, our Wine, our Corn, and Places.   

Honest Custodes these shall be,  
Who keep your Plants in bravery,  
The Cherry, and the Codling-tree for Ladies,   

And Lords, and Knights, and quibbling Squires,  
W' have all things here to their desires,  
To please the Girls, the Boys, their Sires, and Babies.   

They say, a man reverst's a Tree,  
I never till this hour did see  
Men upright Trees, Ex traduce, and growing,   

With mighty Thighs, and Arms, and Golls,  
And Noses redder than old Noll's,  
Faces as broad as Moon, or Soll's down going.   

These Giants are for cleanliness,  
They have, I'll swear, their Laundresses;  
Whether their names be Nan or Bess, they have it;   

These green Arboreans necks about,  
No filthy dirty nasty clout,  
But solemn dress of Soldat stout, called Crevat.   

One's Armes' a Club, the other Bill,  
They stand in posture for to kill,  
Fright Men and Dogs, or any Bilbo-bravo's:   

No Quakers hither dare to come,  
fanatics that sing all and some,  
Nor any thing with Fife and Drum, t' enslave us.   

They look as if they'd eat you up,  
Yet never breakfast, dine, or sup,  
Nor yet of water drink a cup, these tall men▪   

Yet whensoe'er I sup or dine,  
(Rejoice in Venison and good Wine)  
God grant they may be guests of mine of all men,   

I should proceed i'th' History,  
That's to describe them Cap-a-pe,  
(Alcides his discovery to's Doxies,   

As his black Rump, and Lion's Skin,  
Which Monsters he confounded in,  
In numbers twelve) which I have seen in Boxes   

At the Red Bull, full many a time;  
But these Green Men, whatsoe're's the crime,  
Do not grow downward, but up climb; for Bobard,   

Nor young jacob, hath made them Feet,  
Nor Ped'stals for to stand as yet,  
Nor Shoes of Velvet green can get from shopboard.   

Which is the cause this Song concludes,  
And spoils the Sport, and interludes,  
The pleasure of the Multitudes: These Sapphics▪   

For want of Feet, can't rehearse  
No more in merry dancing Verse;  
Our want of Subject spoils Commerce and Traffic.