T&M: Trad.

 In a cavern, in a canyon
 excavating for a mine.
 Dwelt a miner, fortyniner,
 and his daughter Clementine.

 Light she was and like a fairy,
 and her shoes were number nine.
 Herringboxes without topses,
 sandals were for Clementine.

 	Oh, my darling, oh, my darling,
	oh, my darling Clementine!
	Thou art lost and gone forever,
	dreadful sorry Clementine.

 Drove she ducklings to the water,
 every mornin' 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.

 	Oh, my darling.................

 Then the miner, fortyniner,
 soon began to peak and pine.
 Though he oughter jine his daughter,
 now he's with his Clementine.

 In my dreams she still doth hunt me,
 robed i garmets soaked and brine.
 Though in life I used to hug her,
 now she's ded I drawe the line.

 	Oh, my darling.................

 Listen boy-scouts, heed the warning,
 to this tragic tale of mine.
 Artificial respiration,
 could have saved my Clementine.

 How I missed her, how I missed her,
 how I missed my Clementine.
 Till I kissed her little sister,
 and forgot my Clementine.

 	Oh, my darling.................
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