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Clementine
- 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 for ever,
dreadful sorry, Clementine.
- Light she was and like a fairy,
and her shoes were number nine,
herring boxes, without topses,
sandals were for Clementine.
- Drove she ducklings, to the water,
every morning, just at nine,
hit her foot against a splinter,
fell into the foaming brine.
- Saw her lips above the water
blowing bubbles mighty fine,
but alas! I was no swimmer,
so I lost my Clementine.
- In a corner of the churchyard,
where the myrtle boughs entwine,
grow the roses in their posies
fertilised by Clementine.
- Then the miner, forty-niner,
soon began to peak and pine,
thought he ought to join his daughter,
now he's with his Clementine.
- 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'll draw the line.
- How I missed her, how I missed her,
how I missed my Clementine!
But I kissed her little sister,
and forgot my Clementine.
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