The Maidens Frollick:
OR,
A brief Relation how Six Lusty Lasses has Prest full Fourteen Taylors on
the backside of St. Clements, and the other adjacent Places.
To the Tune of an Orange. Licensed according to Order.
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OF late near the Strand we well understand,
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Six Lasses that took a brisk Frollick in hand;
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Twas thus I profess, they in Seamans Dress,
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Not far from the May-pole resolved to Press
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Fourteen Taylors.
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Young Nancy she tyd a Sword by her side,
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And she was resolved for to be their Guide:
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This young Female Crew, Kate, Bridget, & Prue,
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And she that went formost was Lieutenant Sue,
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Pressing Taylors.
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These Maids by consent their minds fully bent,
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First thro the back side of St. Clements they went,
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Where just in the Street they a Taylor did meet,
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They Prest him, and streight he fell down at their feet,
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Im a Taylor.
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I tell you, said he, I neer was at Sea,
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And therefore kind Gentlemen pray set me free,
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And pity those Tears, I have livd Forty Year,
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And never usd Weapon, but Bodkin and Shears,
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Im a Taylor.
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But Susan and they strait hauld him away,
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While Tom the poor Taylor did sigh, beg, and pray,
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Yet all was in vain, for they did him retain,
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And told him that now he must fight on the Main,
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Tho a Taylor.
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Then to White-hart-yard they went with regard,
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And there a poor Taylor was labouring hard
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Upon his Shop-board, Nan drew out her Sword,
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Saying, He must King William his Service afford,
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Tho a Taylor.
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The Taylor did quake, nay, quiver and shake,
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At length with a pitiful Voice he did spake,
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While Tears down did run, he cryd Im undone,
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I never did know the right end of a Gun,
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Im a Taylor.
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Then stout Boston Bess said nevertheless,
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You must go with us, weve a Warrant to Press;
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Then wave this Excuse, and lay by your Goose,
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Such nimble young Fellows may be of great use.
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Tho a Taylor.
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And then by report they went to Round Court,
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Where Seven young Taylors were making of spo[rt,]
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Their Hearts void of Care, tho when they come th[ere,]
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These Maids did catch napping, as Moss catchd [his] Ma[re,]
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Seven Taylors.
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They thought to resist, but Joan with her Fist,
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She thumpt them about till the Taylors they Pis[t;]
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And then in a rage, the rest did engage,
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And brought them away to the Round-House or Ca[ge,]
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These poor Taylors.
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With all might and main, down to Dutchy-lane,
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These Petticoats Press-Masters hurried again,
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To Press some they knew, twas Morgan and Hu[gh,]
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A couple belongd to the Cross-legged Crew,
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And Welsh Taylors.
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Then Morgan hur railes, crys, Splutter-a-nails,
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Hur newly come up to fair London from Wales,
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Then pray cease your Strife, hur has a young Wif[e,]
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Besides hur was never yet killd in hur Life,
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A Welsh Taylor.
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But yet right or wrong, they brought em along,
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And happend to meet with Three more in the Thro[ng,]
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Then said lusty Jane, you must serve King & Que[en,]
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And thus these stout Females did Press full Fourte[en,]
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And all Taylors.
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