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5
darling,
My darling Clementine,
Thou art lost for me forever,
Dreadful sorry, Clementine.
When the day was done and the setting sun
Its rays they ceased to shine,
Homeward came the brawney miner
To caress his Clementine.
None was nearer, none was dearer,
Since the days of forty-nine
When, in youth, he had another
Who was then his Clementine.
She led her ducks down to the river,
The weather it was fine,
Stubbed her toe against a sliver,
Fell into the rageing brine.
He heard her calling calling father,
Her voice was like a chime,
But alas he was no swimmer,
So he lost his Clementine
