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Pagina: 544/544

Percy Montrose (1884)
In a cavern, 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 lost and gone for ever,
Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

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

Drove she 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,
Fertilised by Clementine

Then the miner, fortyniner,
Soon began to peak and pine;
Thought he "oughter fine" 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.