Dwelt a miner, forty-nine …
It was an early Christmas morn
It might have been the rain,
but — it was all quite forlorn
Perhaps, I just wanted to mourn
This early Christmas morn
She, just standing there;
snow curling through her hair
This early Christmas morn
In the nights
when the sun stayed up till nine,
I should have called time
But perhaps, I was inclined to see
her as mine
Or, I just could not bring myself to whine
But, even as I never said it,
certainly not out loud,
I surely heard myself say so
Perhaps, she too
That I’ll never quite know
For, she was standing there;
snow curling through her hair
One early Christmas morn
Maybe it was just me,
me who wanted to see,
wanted for it to be
But, I’d like to think that
anyone could see her,
standing there
Snow curling through her hair
One early Christmas morn
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
Oh my darling, Clementine!
Thou art lost and gone forever
Dreadful sorry, Clementine [1]
That early Christmas morn
Standing there
Snow curling through hair
NOTES
[1] This verse & the title are taken from the traditional song, ‘Oh my darling, Clementine’, usually attributed to Percy Montrose (1884) but sometimes also to Barker Bradford. This, in turn, was based on a poem ‘Down by the River Liv’d a Maiden’ by H.S. Thompson (1863).