THE LASS OF COCKERTON.
Tune—Low down in the Broom.
’Twas on a summer’s evening,
As I a roving went,
I met a maiden fresh and fair,
That was a milking sent.
Whose lovely look such sweetness spoke,
Divinely fair she shone;
With modest face her dwelling-place,
I found was Cockerton.[75]
With raptures fir’d, I eager gaz’d,
On this blooming country maid,
My roving eye, in quickest search,
Each graceful charm survey’d.
The more I gaz’d, new wonder rais’d,
And still I thought upon
Those lovely charms, that so alarms
In the Lass of Cockerton.
Now would the Gods but deign to hear,
An artless lover’s prayer;
This lovely nymph ’bove all I’d ask,
And scorn each other care;
True happiness I’d then possess,
Her love to share alone;
No mortals know what pleasures flow,
With the lass of Cockerton.
[75] A village near Darlington.