Excavating for a mine,
Lived a miner, forty-niner,
And his daughter, Clementine.
Oh, my darling, oh, my darling,
Oh, my darling Clementine!
You are 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 river,
Every morning just at nine,
Stumbled she against a splinter,
Fell into the foaming brine.
How I missed her, how I missed her,
How I missed my Clementine,
\'Till I kissed her little sister,
And forgot my Clementine