Lass Of Cessnock Banks, The

the vernal may,

when ev'ning phoebus shines serene,

while birds rejoi every spray;

an' she has tarkling 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 tarkling roguish een.

her forehead's like the show'ry bow,

when gleaming sunbeams intervene

and gild the distant mountain's brow;

an' she has tarkling roguish een.

her cheeks are like yon crimson gem,

the pride of all the flowery se,

just opening on its thorny stem;

an' she has tarkling roguish een.

her bosom's like the nightly snow,

when pale the m rises keen,

while hid the murm'ring streamlets flow;

an' she has tarkling roguish een.

her lips are like yon cherries ripe,

that sunny

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