On Cessnock Banks

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 cowslip 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 Phœbus shines serene,

While birds rejoice on every 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 sunbeams intervene

And 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 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,

That sunny walls from Boreas screen,

They tempt the taste and charm the sight;

An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

Her teeth are like a flock of sheep,

With fleeces newly washen clean,

That slowly mount the rising steep;

An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' een.

Her breath is like the fragrant breeze

That gently stirs the blossom'd bean,

When Phœbus 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,

Tho' matching beauty's fabled queen,

'Tis the mind that shines in ev'ry grace,

An' chiefly in her rogueish een.