Clementine - Live

I should like to consider the folk song,
and 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.
If professional songwriters had written them
instead, things might have turned out considerably
differently. For example, consider the old favorite,
with which, I'm sure, you're all familiar,
"Clementine", you know:

In a cavern, in a canyon
Dadada dadadada . . .

...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:

(Cole Porter Style)
In a cavern . . .
In a canyon . . .
Excava-hay-hay-hehting for . . .
A mine
Far away from the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM . . .
Of the city –
She was so pretty
What a pity – Clementine!
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, dis-CERning
the reTURning
of this CHURning
BURning . . .
YEARning for you . . .
And –

(spoken) Well, supposing at this point, that Mozart...
or, one of that crowd... had tried writing a verse,
the next one might've come out as a baritone-aria
from an Italian opera - somewhat along these lines:

Era legera e come un fairy
{It was light and (she was) like a fairy}
E suo shoes numero nine
{And her shoes (were) number nine}
Herring bo-ho-ho-hoxes sans-a to-ho-ho-hopses,
{Herring bo-ho-ho-hoxes without to-ho-ho-hopses}
Sandalae per Clementina si
{Sandals for Clementine}
Per Clementina si
{For Clementine}
Per Clementina sandalae
{Sandals for Clementine}
Per Clementina sandalae
{Sandals for Clementine}
Per Clementina!
{For Clementine}

Clementina, Clementina, Cleh-eh-eh-ehmentina . . .
{Clementine }
Herring boxes sans-a topses sandalae per Clementina
{Herring boxes without topses, sandals for Clementine}
Herring boxes sans-a topses sandalae per Clementina
{Herring boxes without topses, sandals for Clementine}
Che sciagura Clementina
{What a disaster, Clementine}
Che sciagura Clementina
{What a disaster, Clementine}
Cara Clementina
{Beloved Clementine}
Cara Clementina-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!
{Beloved Clementine}

(spoken) Supposing, at this rather dramatic juncture in
the narrative, one ofour modern "cool school" of composers
had tried writing a verse, thenext one might've come out...
a-like this...

(whispered) A-one, A-two, A-three!
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!

(spoken) 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 eterni-ty!

– See what I mean?