O My Darling Clementine
In a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a mine,
Lived a miner forty-niner, and his daughter Clementine.
O my darling, o may darling, o my darling Clementine,
She wore boxes without topses, and her shoes were number nine.
Drove she ducklings to the water every morning just at nine,
Hit her foot upon a splinter, fell into the foaming brine.
Ruby lips above the water, blowing bubbles soft, and fine,
But alas I was no swimmer, so I lost my Clementine.
O my darling, o my darling, o my darling Clementine,
Thou art lost and gone forever. Dreadful sorry Clementine.
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