While May's sweet scent did cheer my brain,
From flowers which grew so rarely;
I chanced to meet a pretty maid,
She shined though it was fogie:
I asked her name; sweet Sir, she said,
My name is Kath'rine Ogie.
I stood a while, and did admire,
To see a nymph so stately;
So brisk an air there did appear
In a country maid so neatly:—
Such nat'ral sweetness she displayed,
Like lilies in a bogie;
Diana's self was ne'er arrayed
Like this same Kath'rine Ogie.
Thou flow'r of females, beauty's queen,
Who sees thee sure must prize thee;
Though thou art drest in robes but mean,
Yet these cannot disgnise thee;
Thy handsome air, and graceful look,
Excels each clownish rogie;
Thou'rt match for laird, or lord, or duke,
My charming Kath'rine Ogie.
O! were I bnt some shepherd swain,
To feed my flock beside thee:
At bughting-time to leave the plain,
In milking to abide thee;
I'd think myself a happier man,
