This song can be found in the Bodleian collection, and in the University of California Santa Barbara English Broadside Ballad Archive and in the book, The Roxburghe Ballads, Vol. 4, edited by J. Woodfall Ebsworth (Hertford: The Ballad Society, 1883), page 409.

The Distressed Damsels;
OR,
A dolefull Ditty of a sorrowful Assembly of young Maidens that were met together near Thames-street, to bewail the Loss of their Loves which were lately press’d away to Sea.
To the Tune of an Orange.
Licensed according to Order.

MY sweet Sister Sue, ah! what I shado[=shall do]?
I fain wou’d be married, but know not I to who;
For why, I protest, the young Men are Prest,
And my Sweetheart Robin is gone with the rest
For a Seaman.

Then Susan reply'd there's many beside,
That Fortune this Summer will surely divide;
Each sudden surprize will cause Lasses cries,
While Tears they do trickle, like Rain from the Skies,
For our Sweethearts.

There's Bess at the Bell you know her full well,
A sorrowful story to me she did tell,
That Thomas her Dear, was Prest she did hear,
And then the poor Creature did tremble for fear
He should leave her.

In Thames-street of late, young pretty-fac'd Kate
Had lost her dear sweeting, the Bricklayer her Mate;
He was prest away but yet the next day
They freed him, then Kate she did lovingly say,
My sweet Johnny.

In the open Street her John she did meet,
And gave him a thousand soft Kisses so sweet,
With stroaking his Chin, she welcom'd him in,
For Joy she was fit to leap out of her Skin,
For her Johnny.

There's Doll at the Swan, her true Love is gone,
Poor Heart she with sorrow doth sigh and take on;
Yet all is in vain, he is gone to the Main,
She fears that he ne'er will return home again,
To embrace her.

There's Bridget & Joan 'tis very well known,
Of fourteen young Sweethearts they have not left one
But all Prest on Board for to stand by the Sword,
And this do’s much Sorrow and Trouble afford,
At the Parting.

If Pressing goes on, there wont be a Man
To please a young Lass, let her do what she can,
For they will be scarce here in a short space,
Then we shall be all in a sorrowful case,
To be Married.

Two Twelvemonths ago, sweet Sister, you know,
The Batchelors then we could bring to our Bow;
Nay, at our command, they stood Cap in hand:
But now they grow scarcy all over the Land,
We must prize them.

Young Nancy and Ned last week they were Wed,
And within an hour of going to Bed,
Just in all their Pride he was Prest from her side,
Before he had dallied one Night with his Bride,
Want[=wasn’t] it pitty?

To leave his delight, and Beauty so bright,
Before he had ever enjoy'd her one Night;
But what shall we say? he was Prest away,
Now you that have Husbands adore them, I pray,
They are Jewels.

Last year I declare, young Maids was choice ware,
But now they grow wonderful plenty I swear,
All over the Town they walk up and down,
I reckon you may have a Score for a Crown,
By Midsummer.