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yet these cannot disguise thee;
Thy handsome air and graceful look
excels each clownish rogie,
Thou'rt match for laird, or lord, or duke,
my bonny 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 dogie,
Than he that hugs his thousands ten,
had I but Kath'rine Ogie.

Then I'd despise the imperial throne,
and statesmen's 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 they are toys, and still look less,
compar'd wi' 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 in nature.
Clouds of despair surround my love,
that are both dark and fogie,
Pity my case, ye pow'rs above,
else I die for Kath'rine Ogie.