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12. Song—The Lass of Cessnock Banks

Written by: Robert Burns | Biography
 | Quotes (31) |
 ON 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 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 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.


 Note 1. The lass is identified as Ellison Begbie, a servant wench, daughter of a farmer.—Lang. [back]



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