In a cavem in a canyon,
excavating for a mine,
dwelt a miner, fortyniner,
and his daughter Clementine.
 
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
oh my darling Clementine!
Thou art last and gane 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.
 
Oh my darling, oh my darling ...

Drove she ducklings to the water,
ev'ry morning, just at nine,
hit her foot against a splinter,
fell into the foaming brine.

Oh my darling, oh my darling ...


Ruby lips above the water,
blowing bubbles soft and fine,
but alas, I was no swimmer,
so I lost my Clementine.

Oh my darling, oh my darling ...

Then the miner, forty-niner,
soon began to peak and pine,
thought he oughter jine his daughter,
now he's with his Clementine.

Oh my darling, oh my darling ...

In my dreams she still cloth haunt me,
robed in garments soaked in brine,
though in life I used to hug her.
Now she's dead I draw the line.

Oh my darling, oh my darling ...

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

Oh my darling, oh my darling ...

Now my boys should take the moral
of this little sang of mine:
Artificial respiration
would have saved my Clementine.

Oh my darling, oh my darling ...