As walking forth to view the plain, 
Upon a morning early,
While May's sweet scent did cheer my brain, 
From flowers which grow so rarely;
I chanced to meet a pretty maid, 
She shined, though it was fogie; 
I asked her name: Sweet 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 displayed, 
Like a lilie in a bogie,
Diana's self was ne'er arrayed 
Like this same 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!