Category: Art
Categories
The Martini-Henry – In The Movies
Categories
Name the movie!
- In the days of lace-ruffles, perukes and brocade
- Brown Bess was a partner whom none could despise–
- An out-spoken, flinty-lipped, brazen-faced jade,
- With a habit of looking men straight in the eyes–
- At Blenhein and Ramillies fops would confess
- They were pierced to the heart by the charms of Brown Bess.
- Though her sight was not long and her weight was not small,
- Yet her actions were winning, her language was clear;
- And everyone bowed as she opened the ball
- On the arm of some high-gaitered, grim grenadier.
- Half Europe admitted the striking success
- Of the dances and routs that were given by Brown Bess.
- When ruffles were turned into stiff leather stocks,
- And people wore pigtails intead of perukes,
- Brown bess never altered her iron-grey locks.
- She knew she was valued for more than her looks.
- “Oh, powder and patches was always my dress,
- And I think I am killing enough,” said Brown Bess.
- So she followed her red-coats, whatever they did,
- From the heights of Quebec to the plains of Assaye,
- From Gibraltar to Acre, Cape Town and Madrid,
- And nothing about her was changed on the way;
- (But most of the Empire which now we possess
- Was won through those years by old-fashioned Brown Bess.)
- In stubborn retreat or in stately advance,
- From the Portugal coast to the cork-woods of Spain,
- She had puzzled some excellent Marshals of France
- Till none of them wanted to meet her again:
- But later, near Brussels, Napoleon–no less–
- Arranged for a Waterloo ball with Brown Bess.
- She had danced till the dawn of that terrible day–
- She danced till the dusk of more terrible night,
- And before her linked squares his battalions gave way,
- And her long fierce quadrilles put his lancers to flight:
- And when his gilt carriage drove off in the press,
- “I have danced my last dance for the world!” said Brown Bess.
- If you go to Museums–there’s one in Whitehall–
- Where old weapons are shown with their names writ beneath,
- You will find her, upstanding, her back to the wall,
- As stiff as a ramrod, the flint in her teeth.
- And if ever we English had reason to bless
- Any arm save our mothers’, that arm is Brown Bess!