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I CANNOT BEAR A GUN.

“ Timidity is generally reckoned an essential attribute of the fair sex, and this absurd notion gives rise to more false starts, than a race for the Leger. Hence screams at mice, fits at spiders, faces at toads, jumps at lizards, flights from daddy longlegs, panics at wasps, sauve qui peut at sight of a gun. Surely, when the military exercise is made a branch of education at so many ladies' academies, the use of the musket would only be a judicious step further in the march of mind. I should not despair, in a month's practice, of making the most timid British female fond of small arms." – HINTS BY A CORPORAL.

It can't be minced, I'm quite convinced,

All girls are full of flam,
Their feelings fine and feminine

Are nothing else but sham.
On all their tricks I need not fix,

I'll only mention one,
How many a Miss will tell you this,

“I cannot bear a gun!”

There's cousin Bell can't 'bide the smell

Of powder – horrid stuff!
A single pop will make her drop,

She shudders at a puff.

My Manton near, with aspen fear

Will make her scream and run : “ It's always so, you brute, you know

I cannot bear a gun!”

About my flask I must not ask,

I must not wear a belt,
I must not take a punch to make

My pellets, card or felt;
And if I just allude to dust,

Or speak of number one, “ I beg you 'll not — don't talk of shot,

I cannot bear a gun!”

Percussion cap I dare not snap,

I may not mention Hall,
Or raise my voice for Mr. Joyce,

His wadding to recall;
At Hawker's book I must not look,

All shooting I must shun,
Or else — “ It's hard, you've no regard,

I cannot bear a gun !”

The very dress I wear, no less

Must suit her timid mind,
A blue or black must clothe my back,

With swallow-tails behind ;
By fustian, jean, or velveteen,

Her nerves are overdone : “O do not, John, put gaiters on,

I cannot bear a gun!”

Ev'n little James she snubs, and blames

His Lilliputian train,
Two inches each from mouth to breech,

And charged with half a grain —
His crackers stopped, his squibbing dropped,

He has no fiery fun,
And all thro’ her “How dare you, Sir?

I cannot bear a gun!”

Yet Major Flint,— the Devil's in 't !

May talk from morn to night, Of springing mines, and twelves and nines,

And volleys left and right,
Of voltigeurs and tirailleurs,

And bullets by the ton:
She never dies of fright, or cries

“ I cannot bear a gun!”

It stirs my bile to see her smile

At all his bang and whiz,
But if I talk of morning walk,

And shots as good as his,
I must not name the fallen game :

As soon as I've begun,
She's in her pout, and crying out,

“I cannot bear a gun!”

Yet, underneath the rose, her teeth

Are false, to match her tongue : Grouse, partridge, hares, she never spares,

Or pheasants, old or young

On widgeon, teal, she makes a meal,

And yet objects to none: “ What have I got, it 's full of shot !

I cannot bear a gun!”

· At pigeon-pie she is not shy,

Her taste it never shocks,
Though they should be from Battersea,

So famous for blue rocks ;
Yet when I bring the very thing

My marksmanship has won,
She cries “ Lock up that horrid cup,

I cannot bear a gun!”

Like fool and dunce I got her once

A box at Drury Lane,
And by her side I felt a pride

I ne'er shall feel again :
To read the bill it made her ill,

And this excuse she spun, “Der Freyschütz, O, seven shots! you know,

I cannot bear a gun!”

Yet at a hint from Major Flint, '

Her very hands she rubs,
And quickly drest in all her best,

Is off to Wormwood Scrubbs.-
The whole review she sits it through,

With noise enough to stun,
And never winks, or even thinks,

“ I cannot bear a gun!”

She thus may blind the Major's mind

In mock-heroic strife,
But let a bout at war break out,

And where's the soldier's wife,
To take his kit and march a bit

Beneath a broiling sun ?
Or will she cry, “My dear, good-by,

I cannot bear a gun!”

If thus she dotes on army coats,

And regimental cuffs,
The yeomanry might surely be

Secure from her rebuffs ;
But when I don my trappings on,

To follow Captain Dunn,
My carbine's gleam provokes a scream

“I cannot bear a gun!”.

It can't be minced, I'm quite convinced,

All girls are full of flam, ' Their feelings fine and feminine

Are nothing else but sham;
On all their tricks I need not fix,

I'll only mention one,
How many a Miss will tell you this,

“I cannot bear a gun !”.

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