AS walking forth to view the plain,
Upon a morning early,
While May’s sweet scent did chear my brain,
From flowers which grow so rarely:
I chanc’d to meet a pretty maid,
She shin’d tho’ it was fogie;
I ask’d her name: sweer sir, she said,
My name is Katharine 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 natural sweetness she display’d,
Like a lillie in a bogie;
Diana’s self was ne’er array’d
Like this same Katharine Ogie.
Thou flower of females, beauty’s Queen,
Who sees thee, sure must prize thee;
Tho’ thou art drest in robes but mean,
Yet these cannot disguise thee:
Thy handsome air, and graceful look,
Far excels any clownish rogie;
Thour’t match for laird or lord, or duke,
My charming Katharine Ogie.
O were I but some shepherd swain!
To feed my flock beside thee,
At boughting-time to leave the plain,
In milking to abide thee;
I’d think myself a happier man,
With Kate, my club, and dogie,
Than he that hugs his thousands ten,
Had I but Katharine Ogie.
Then I’d despise th’ imperial throne,
And statesmens dangerous 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 Katharine Ogie.
But I fear the gods have not decreed
For me so fine a creature,
Whose beauty rare makes her exceed
All other works in nature.
Clouds of despair surround my love,
That are both dark and fogie:
Pity my case ye powers above,
Else I die for Katharine Ogie.
– Authors Unknown.