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
Drove she ducklings to the water
Every morning just at nine,
Hit her foot against a splinter
Fell into the foaming brine.
Ruby lips above the water,
Blowing bubbles soft and fine,
But alas, I was no swimmer,
So I lost my Clementine.
Then the miner, forty-niner
Soon began to peak and pine,
Thought he oughter jine he 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 draw the line.