The Lass o' Arranteinie/Katherine Ogie
For other versions of this work, see Kath'rine Ogie.
KATHERINE OGIE.
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 though it was foggie;I ask'd her name: Sweet Sir, she said,My name is Kath'rine Ogie.
I stood awhile, and did admire,To see a nymph so stately;So brisk an air there did appearIn this dear maid so neatly.Such natural sweetness she display'd,Like lilies in a bogie;Diana's self was ne'er array'dLike this same Kath'rine Ogie.
Thou flower of females, Beauty's queen,Who sees thee, sure must prize thee;Though thou art dress'd in robes but mean,Yet these cannot disguise thee:Thy handsome air, and graceful look,Excel a clownish rogie;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 bughting-time to leave the plain,In milking to abide thee;I'd think myself a happier man,Wi' Kate, my club, and doggie,Than he that hugs his thousands ten,Had I but Kath'rine Ogie.
Then I'd despise the imperial throne,And statesmen's dang'rous stations:I'd be no king, I'd wear no crown,I'd smile at conquering nations;Might I caress, and still possessThis lass of whom I'm vogie;For these are toys, and still look less,Compar'd with Kath'rine Ogie.
I fear the gods have not decreedFor me so fine a creature,Whose beauty rare makes her exceedAll 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.