With shoulder length wavy brown hair so graceful and tall
At the dance in Crossley the fairest of all
Of her type of beauty songs written and sung
Just watching her dance would make an old man feel young
Since she is one i had not seen previously
I asked a middle aged local fellow who she might be
He said you mean the brown haired one with eyes blue as ripened sloes
Why she is a local she is Crossley's Rose
As she wheeled to a reel with a smile free of care
Gobsmacked by her beauty at her i could only stare
What i was beholding i could scarce believe my eyes
That in Crossley such rare beauty could bloom to me a big surprise
In her beautiful green dress she danced around the floor
And for one more jig or reel she joined in the encore.
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