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(H.S. Thompson)

Down by the river there lived a maiden
In a cottage built just seven by nine,
And all around this lubly bower
The beauteous sunflower blossoms twine.

cho: Oh! my Clema Oh! my Clema!
Oh! my darling Clementine,
Now you are gone and lost forever,
I'm drefful sorry, Clementine.

Her lips were like two luscious beefsteaks
Dipp'd in tomato sauce and brine,
And like the cashmere goatess covering
Was the fine wool of Clementine.

Her foot, Oh Golly! 'Twas a beauty
Her shoes were made of Digby pine,
Two herring boxes without the tops on
Just made the sandals of Clementine.

One day de wind was blowing awful
I took her down some old rye wine,
And listened to de sweetest cooings
Ob my sweet sunflower Clementine.

De ducks had gone down to de riber,
To drive dem back she did incline,
She stubbed her toe and, Oh! Kersliver
She fell into the foamy brine.

I see'd her lips above de waters,
A blowing bubbles bery fine,
But 'twant no use, I want no swimmer
And so I lost my Clementine.

Now ebry night down by de riber
Her ghostess walks bout half-past nine,
I know it's her a kase I tracked her
And by de smell 'tis Clementine.

Now all young men by me take warning
Don't gib your ladies too much rye wine,
Kase like as not in dis wet wedder
Dey'll share de fate ob Clementine.

Published by Oliver Ditson, 1863
note: This is the earliest version of Clementine I've
been able to find. Note that there's no reference
to mining nor 49ers. RG

@death @drink @ghost
filename[ CLEMENT5

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