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 chanced to meet a pretty maid,
⁠She shin'd though it was foggie,
I ask'd her name, sweet sir, she said,
⁠My name is Cathrine Ogie.

I stood awhile, and did admire
⁠To see a nymph so stately;
So brisk in air she did appear
⁠In a country 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 Kathrine Ogie.

Thou flow'r 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:
The hansome air and graceful look
⁠Excell each clownish rogie;
Thou'rt match for laird, or lord, or Duke,
⁠My charming Cathrine Ogie.

​O were I but some shepherd swain,
⁠To feed my flocks 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 dogie,
Than he that hugs bis thousand ten,
⁠Had I but Cathrine Ogie.

Then I'd despise th' imperial throne,
⁠And statemens dangerous stations;
I'd be no king. I'll wear no crown,
⁠I'd smile at conquering nations,
Might I caress and still posess
⁠This lass of whom I'm vogie,
For they are toys, and still look less,
⁠Compar'd with Cathrine Ogie.

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,
⁠They are both dark and foggie;
Pity my case, ye powers above!
⁠Else I die for Cathrine Ogie.