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 soles were number nine,
Herring boxes without topes, sandals were for Clementine.
Drove she ducklings to water every morning just as nine,
Hit her foot against a splinter, fell into the morning brine.
Ruby lips above the water, blowing bubbles soft and fine,
Alas for me! I was no swimmer, so I lost my Clementine.
In a churchyard near the canyon, where the myrtle doth entwine
There grow roses and other posies, fertilized by Clementine.
Then the miner, forty-niner, soon began to peak and pine,
Thought he ought’er join his daughter, now he’s with Clementine.
In my dreams she still doth haunt me, robed in garments soaked in brine,
While 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,
Until I kissed her little sister, and forgot about Clementine.
Now ye Scouts all heed the warning to this tragic tale of mine,
Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation would have saved my Clementine.