poliphilo

In a cavern, by a canyon,
Excavating for a mine,
Lived a miner, forty-niner,
And his daughter Clementine.

O my darling, o my darling,
O 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.

Drove she ducklings to the water
Every morning just at nine,
Struck her foot against a splinter,
Fell into the foaming brime.

Rosy lips above the water,
Blowing bubbles mighty fine,
But alas I was no swimmer
So I lost my Clementine.

How I missed her, how I missed her,
How I missed my Clementine...
So I kissed her little sister
And forgot my Clementine.

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