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 Than he that hugs his thousands ten, Had I but Kath’rine Ogie.

Then I’d despise th’ imperial throne, And statesmen’s dang’rous stations, I’d be no king, I’d wear no crown, I’d smile at conqu’ring nations, Might I caress, and still possess This lass of whom I’m vogie; For they are toys, and still look less, Compared 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 in nature. Clouds of despair surround my love, That are bath dark and foggie; Pity my case, ye powers above! Else I die for Kath’rine Ogie.

amang the Highland hills, ’Midst Nature’s wildest grandeur, By rocky dens, an’ woody glens, With weary steps I wander, The langsome way, the darksome day, The mountain mist sae rainy