The Lass o' Arranteinie/Katherine Ogie

by Anonymous

For other versions of this work, see Kath'rine Ogie.

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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 appear
In this dear maid so neatly.
Such natural sweetness she display'd,
Like lilies in a bogie;
Diana's self was ne'er array'd
Like 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 possess
This 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 decreed
For me 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.