|Codex Studiosorum Bruxellensis|
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 are lost 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 her ducklings, to the water, Ev'ry morning, just at nine; Hit her foot against a splinter, Fell into the foaming brine.
Saw her lips above the water, Blowing bubbles mighty fine But alas I was no swimmer So I lost my Clementine.
In a corner of the churchyard, Where the myrtle boughs entwine, Grow the roses in their posies, Fertilized by Clementine.
Then the miner, forty-niner, Soon began to peak and pine; Thought he "oughter join" his 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.
How I missed her, how I missed her. How I missed my Clementine! But I kissed her little sister, And forgot my Clementine.
|© Codexfonds 2008|