Tune—“If he be a Butcher neat and trim.”
56 lines✦
n Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;Could I describe her shape and mein;Our lasses a’ she far excels,An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. She’s sweeter than the morning dawn,When rising Phoebus first is seen,And dew-drops twinkle o’er the lawn;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. She’s stately like yon youthful ash,That grows the cowslip braes between,And drinks the stream with vigour fresh;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. She’s spotless like the flow’ring thorn,With flow’rs so white and leaves so green,When purest in the dewy morn;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Her looks are like the vernal May,When ev’ning Phoebus shines serene,While birds rejoice on every spray;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Her hair is like the curling mist,That climbs the mountain-sides at e’en,When flow’r-reviving rains are past;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Her forehead’s like the show’ry bow,When gleaming sunbeams interveneAnd gild the distant mountain’s brow;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem,The pride of all the flowery scene,Just opening on its thorny stem;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Her bosom’s like the nightly snow,When pale the morning rises keen,While hid the murm’ring streamlets flow;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Her lips are like yon cherries ripe,That sunny walls from Boreas screen;They tempt the taste and charm the sight;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Her teeth are like a flock of sheep,With fleeces newly washen clean,That slowly mount the rising steep;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Her breath is like the fragrant breeze,That gently stirs the blossom’d bean,When Phoebus sinks behind the seas;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Her voice is like the ev’ning thrush,That sings on Cessnock banks unseen,While his mate sits nestling in the bush;An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. But it’s not her air, her form, her face,Tho’ matching beauty’s fabled queen;’Tis the mind that shines in ev’ry grace,An’ chiefly in her roguish een.
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