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Robert Burns - The Lass Of Cessnock Banks
Work rating: Low

On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells,
     Could I describe her shape and mien!
Our lasses 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 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 Phoebus 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 flower-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, 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 bosom`s like the nightly snow,
     When pale the morning rises keen,
While hid the murm`ring 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 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,
     Tho matching Beauty`s fabled Queen:
`Tis the mind that shines in ev`ry grace—-
     An chiefly in her rogueish een!
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