Odearly do I love to rove among the fields of barley, 'Twas there that Charley told his love, the brithe, the winsome Charley; Then he so su'd, and he so woo'd, and marriage was the parley, What could I do, but buckie too, with bonny, bonny, bonny Charley.
CHORUS O my bonny, bonny boy, bonny Charley, O my bonny, bonny boy, my bonny Charley.
I ken, the lasses rue the day, I sought the fields of barley, And strive to win from me away, the heart of winsome Charley; But, ah! how vain, they cannot gain his love by all their parley, And now they see, he wooes but me, my bonny, bonny Charley. O my, etc.
O ilka blessing on the laird that owns the fields of barley, And I can him alone regard, for his ain winsome Charley; The genteel youth, with purest truth, so wooes one late and early, I can't withstand, to give my hand to bonny, bonny Charley. O my, etc.
