The Maidens Frolic: OR, Relation how Six Lusty Lasses has Pressed full Fourteen Tailors on the backside of St. Clement's, and the other adjacent Places. o the Tune of an Orange. Licenced according to Order.  
 

late near the Strand we well understand,  
Sir Lasses that took a brisk Frolic in hand;  
as thus I profess, they in Seaman's Dress,  
far from the Maypole resolved to Press  
Fourteen Tailors.   

Nancy she tied a Sword by her side,  
he was resolved for to be their Guide:  
This young Female Crew, Kate, Bridget, & Prue,  
And she that went foremost was Lieutenant Sue,  
Pressing Tailors.   

These Maids by consent their minds fully bend,  
First through the back side of St. Clement's they went,  
Where just in the Street they a Tailor did meet,  
They Pressed him, and straight he fell down at their feet,  
I'm a Tailor.   

I tell you, said he, I ne'er was at Sea,  
And therefore kind Gentlemen pray set me free;  
And pity those Tears, I have lived Forty Year,  
And never used Weapon, but Bodkin and Shears,  
I'm a Tailor.   

But Susan and they straight hauled him away,  
While Tom the poor Tailor did sigh, beg, and pray,  
Yet all was in vain, for they did him retain,  
And told him that now he must fight on the Main,  
Tho' a Tailor.   

Then to White-hart-yard they went with regard,  
And there a poor Tailor was labouring hard  
Upon his Shopboard, Nan drew out her Sword,  
Saying, He must King William his Service afford,  
Tho' a Tailor.   

The Tailor did quake, nay, quiver and shake,  
At length with a pitiful Voice he did spoke,  
While Tears down did run, he cried I'm undone,  
I never did know the right end of a Gun,  
I'm a Tailor.   

Then stout Boston Bess said nevertheless,  
You must go with us, we've a Warrant to Press;  
Then wave this Excuse, and lay by your Goose,  
Such nimble young Fellows may be of great use.  
Tho' a Tailor.   

And then by report they went to Round Court,  
Where Seven young Tailors were making of sport  
Their Hearts void of Care, tho' when they come there,  
These Maids did catch napping, as Moss catched his Mare,  
Seven Tailors.   

They thought to resist, but Joan with her Fist,  
She thumped them about till the Tailors they Pist;  
And then in a rage, the rest did engage,  
And brought them away to the Round-House or Cage,  
These poor Tailors.   

With all might and main, down to Dutchy-lane,  
These Petticoats Press-Masters hurried again,  
To Press some they knew, 'twas Morgan and Hugh▪  
A couple belonged to the Cross legged Crew,  
And Welsh Tailors.   

Then Morgan her rails, cries, Splutter-a-nails,  
Hur newly come up to fair London from Wales,  
Then pray cease your Strife, her has a young Wife,  
Besides her was never yet killed in her Life,  
A Welsh Tailor.   

But yet right or wrong, they brought 'em along,  
And happened to meet with Three more in the Thro●●…  
Then said lusty Jane, you must serve King & D●●…▪  
And thus these stout Females did Press full fou●●…  
And all Tailors.    

Printed for▪ P Brooksby, I. Deacon, I. Blare, I. Ba●●.