In a cavern, in a canyon
Excavating for a mine
Dwelt a miner, forty-niner
And his daughter Clementine
Oh my darling, oh my darling
Oh my darling, Clementine
Thou art lost and gone forever
Dreadful sorry, Clementine
Light she was and like a fairy
And her shoes were number nine
Herring boxes without topses
Sandals were for Clementine
Chorus
Drove she ducklings to the water
Every morning just at nine
Hit her foot against a splinter
Fell into the foaming brine
Chorus
Ruby lips above the water
Blowing bubbles soft and fine
But alas, I was no swimmer
So I lost my Clementine
Chorus
Then the miner, forty-niner
Soon began to peak and pine
Thought he oughter jine he daughter
Now he’s with his Clementine
Chorus
In my dreams she still doth haunt me Robed in garments soaked in brine;
Though in life I used to hug her
Now she’s dead, I draw the line
A remarkable ballad developed in San Francisco toward the end of The nineteeth century. It became a favorite college song during
The Reconstruction period
Additional verses (Boy Scouts and others) Rg In a churchyard, 'neath a gravestone
Where the myrtle doth entwine
There are posies, and some roses
Fertilized by Clementine
How I missed her, how I missed her
How I missed my Clementine!
Till I kissed her little sister
And forgot my Clementine
All you Boy Scouts, take fair warning
From this dreadful tale of mine
Artificial respiration
Would have saved my Clementine
Recorded by the Weavers
@love @death
Filename[ clementi
Dc
===Document boundary