The Lass of Cessnock Banks

 On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells; Could I describe her shape and mien; Our lassies a' she far excels, An' she has twa sparkling, rogueish 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, rogueish een. She's stately, like yon youthful ash That grows the cowslips braes between And drinks the stream with vigour fresh; An' she has twa sparkling, rogueish 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, rogueish een. Her looks are like the vernal May When ev'ning Phoebus shines serene, While birds rejoice on ev'ry spray; An' she has twa sparkling, rogueish 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, rogueish een. Her forehead's like the show'ry bow When gleaming sun-beams intervene And gild the distant mountain's brow; An' she has twa sparkling, rogueish 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, rogueish een. Her teeth are like the nightly snow When pale the morning rises keen, While hid the murmuring streamlets flow; An' she has twa sparkling, rogueish een. Her lips are like yon cherries ripe Which sunny walls from Boreas screen; They tempt the taste and charm the sight; An' she has twa sparkling, rogueish 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, rogueish 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, rogueish een. But it's not her air, her form, her face, Though matching beauty's fabled Queen; 'Tis the mind that shines in ev'ry grace, An' chiefly in her rogueish een.