The Book of Scottish Song/Kath'rine Ogie
Kath'rine Ogie.
[Of the author of this old song nothing is known, but it can be traced as far back as the days of Charles II., before whom it was sung by John Abell of the chapel-royal, a celebrated singer of the period. Single sheets of it, with the music, were published in 1680. In the "Pills to Purge Melancholy," published about twenty years later, an inaccurate reprint of it is given, and also another song to the same tune, called "Kath'rine Logie." Ramsay's version of it in the Tea Table Miscellany differs only in a few words from the original, and is the one generally adopted.]
As walking forth to view the plain,
Upon a morning early,
While May's sweet scent did cheer my brain,
From flowers which grew so rarely,
I chanc'd to meet a pretty maid,
She shin'd tho' it was foggie:
I ask'd her name: Kind 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 display'd,
Like a lily in a bogie;
Diana's self was ne'er array'd
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 disguise thee;
Thy handsome air and graceful look,
Excels each clownish roguie;
Thou'rt match for laird, or lord, or duke,
My charming Kath'rine Ogie.
O! were I but some shepherd swain,
To feed my flock beside thee;
At buchting-time to leave the plain,
In milking to abide thee.
I'd think myself a happier man,
Wi' Kate, my club, and dogie,
Than he that hugs his thousands ten,
Had I but Kath'rine Ogie.
Then I'd despise th' imperial throne,
And statesmen's dang'rous stations,
I'd be no king, I'd wear no crown,
I'd smile at conqu'ring nations,
Might I caress, and still possess
This lass of whom I'm vogie
For they're but toys, and still look less,
Compar'd with Kath'rine Ogie.
I fear for me is not decreed
So fair, so fine a creature,
Whose beauty rare makes her exceed
All other works of nature.
Clouds of despair surround my love,
That are both dark, and foggie;
Pity my case, ye Powers above!
I die for Kath'rine Ogie.