In a cavern in a canyon,
excavating for a mine,
dwelt a miner, fotty niner,
and his daugther Clementine.

Rit. Oh my darling, oh my darling,
oh my darling Clementine !
Thou art loost 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 the duckling to the water,
every morning just at nine
hit her foot against a splinter
fell into the foarming brine.

Saw her lips above the water
blowing bubbles mighty fine,
but alas! I was no swimmer,
so I lost my Clementine.


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