DESCRIPTION would but tire my Muse:
In short, they both were turn'd to .
Old Good-man  of the Green
Remembers he the Trees has seen;
He'll talk of them from Noon till Night,
And goes with Folks to shew the Sight:
On , after Ev'ning Prayer,
He gathers all the Parish there;
Points out the Place of either ;
Here , there  grew.
Till once, a Parson of our Town,
To mend his Barn, cut  down;
At which, 'tis hard to be believ'd,
How much the other Tree was griev'd,
Grew Scrubby, dy'd a-top, was stunted:
So, the next Parson stub'd and burnt it.