Clementine

An illustrated poem from the past

I used to sing this one a lot. You see, I have big feet, for a girl. I ran around barefoot as much as I could, but winter in Alaska requires shoes! As I reached my full height, which did not match the span of my feet, my father teased me that I had built-in frog flippers, making me a good swimmer and diver. The rest of my family assured me it meant I had a solid foundation. Later into my teens, I realized to my delight that I have a natural Hobbit build. Anyway, the poem about a girl with big feet resonated strongly with tomboy-me. There are a number of variation on this poem, which has no known author. I’m using the one from the 1929 version of The World’s 1000 Best Poems, where it can be found in volume 1.

Clementine

In a cavern, in a canyon

Excavating for a mine

Dwelt a miner forty-niner

And his daughter Clementine.

Light she was, and like a feather,

And her shoes were number nine

Sardine-boxes, without topses,

Sandals were for Clementine.

Drove she ducklings to the water,

Every morning just at nine,

Stubbed her toe upon a splinter,

Fell into the foaming brine.

Chorus

Ruby lips above the water,

Blowing bubbles soft and fine,

Alas, for me! I was no swimmer,

So I lost my Clementine.

Chorus

In a Churchyard, near the canyon,

Where the myrtle doth entwine,

There grow roses, and other posies,

Fertilized by Clementine.

Chorus

Then the miner, forty-niner,

Soon began to peak and pine,

Though he ‘oughter jine’ his daughter,

Now he’s with his Clementine.

Chorus

In my dreams she oft doth haunt me,

With her garments soaked in brine,

Though in life I used to hug her,

Now she’s dead I draw the line.

Written originally by Anonymous, likely sometime after 1849 and the Gold Rush. Adapted endlessly by scouts and campers everywhere for many generations of morbid little kids!