paroles de chanson Clementine - Tom Lehrer
I
should
like
to
expound
briefly
on
a
theory
I
have
held
for
some
time
to
the
effect
That
the
reason
most
folk
songs
are
so
atrocious
Is
that
they
were
written
by
the
people
And
if
professional
songwriters
had
written
them
instead
Things
might
have
turned
out
considerably
differently
for
the
example
Consider
the
old
favorite
"Clementine",
you
know
In
a
cavern,
in
a
canyon
Da-da-da
da-da-da-da
...
A
song
with
no
recognizable
merit
whatsoever
And
imagine
what
might
have
happened
if
for
example
Cole
Porter
had
tried
writing
this
song
The
first
verse
might
have
come
out
like
this:
In
a
cavern
In
a
canyon
Excava-ha-ha-heighting
for
a
mine
Far
away
from
the
boom-boom-boom
Of
the
city
She
was
so
pretty
What
a
pity
Clementine!
O-oh,
Clementine!
Can't
you
tell
from
the
howls
of
me
This
love
of
mine
Calls
to
you
from
the
bowels
of
me
Are
you
discerning
the
returning
Of
this
churning
burning
Yearning
for
you
A-a-aw
...
Well,
supposing
at
this
point
that
Mozart
Or,
one
of
that
crowd
had
tried
writing
a
verse
The
next
one
might
have
come
out
as
a
baritone-aria
From
an
Italian
opera
Somewhat
along
these
lines:
Era
legera
e
come
un
fairy
E
suo
shoes
numero
nine
Herring
bo-ho-ho-hoxes
sans-a
to-ho-ho-hopses
Sandalae
per
Clementina
si
Per
Clementina
si
Per
Clementina
sandalae
Per
Clementina
sandalae
Per
Clementina!
Clementina,
Clementina
Cleh-eh-eh-eh-mentina
Herring
boxes
sans-a
topses
sandalae
per
Clementina
Herring
boxes
sans-a
topses
sandalae
per
Clementina
Che
sciagura
Clementina
Che
sciagura
Clementina
Cara
Clementina
Cara
Clementina-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!
Well,
supposing
note
this
rather
dramatic
juncture
in
the
narrative
That
one
four
modern
"cool
school"
of
composers
had
tried
writing
a
verse
The
next
one
might
have
come
out
a-like
this:
Drove
those
ducklings
to
the
water,
yprach!
Doodilehdoodoot,
yah-hah
...
Every
mornin',
like
nine
a.m.,
awhoopah
Doodileh
doo-doo,
doodilidah
Got
a-hung
upon
a
splinter
Got
a-hung
upon
a
splinter,
klooglimah!
Hoo,
hoot!
Fell
into
the
foamy
brine
Dig
that
crazy
Clementine,
man!
End
to
end
on
a
happy
note,
one
can
always
count
on
Gilbert
and
Sullivan
for
a
rousig
finale
– full
of
words
and
music
And
signifying
...
nothing!
That
I
missed
her
depressed
her
young
sister
named
Esther
this
mister
to
pester
the
tried
Now
a
pestering
sister's
a
festering
blister
you're
best
to
resist
her,
say
I!
The
mister
resisted,
the
sister
persisted
when
I
kissed
her
all
loyalty
slipped
When
she
said
I
could
have
her,
her
sister's
cadaver
must
surely
have
turned
in
its
crypt!
Yes,
yes,
yes,
yes!
But
I
love
she
and
she
loves
me
And
raptured
are
the
both
of
we
Yes,
I
love
she
and
she
loves
I
And
will
through
all
eternity!
See
what
I
mean?
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