Archive for May 14th, 2010
Posted May 14, 2010on:
Oh my darlin’ letter I…
Sing the words of the song for the letter I to the tune of “Clementine.”
In an Igloo on an Island
(Lyrics by Teddy Slater, from book “ABC Sing-Along”)
IN an igloo on an island,
in a sea of icy water,
lived an inchworm named Ignatius
and his itsy-bitsy daughter.
She was smaller than an inkblot
and her name was Isabelle.
She didn’t need a cradle
’cause she slept in a seashell.
This instrumental track is perfect for singing “In an Igloo on an Island” twice through:
Find a karaoke sing-along track for a longer version of original song here:
Find a slower instrumental (in a lower key) here:
An interesting wiki article about the song’s origins:
This article suggests many alternative verses for the song.
As it so often goes for traditional songs, there exist, and are sung, many versions of the lyrics and the original composer and author of the music and lyrics are questionable.
In terms of “additional lyrics” I love the last verse suggesting a moral, promoting the skill of “artificial respiration” so that the song becomes inspiration for Boy Scouts to learn the skills of CPR/Mouth to Mouth resuscitation. Sounds to me like a good suggestion for everyone…not just Boy Scouts!
In a cavern, In a canyon,
Excavating for a mine,
Dwelt a miner forty-niner,
And his daughter Clementine.
Oh my darling, Oh my darling,
Oh my darling Clementine,
You are lost and gone forever,
Dreadful sorry Clementine.
Light she was and like a fairy,
And her shoes were number nine;
Herring boxes, without topses,
Sandals were for Clementine.
Drove she ducklings to the water,
Every morning just at nine;
Hit her foot against a splinter,
Fell into the foaming brine.
Ruby lips above the water,
Blowing bubbles, soft and fine;
But Alas! I was no swimmer,
So I lost my Clementine.
When the miner forty-niner,
Soon began to peak and pine,
Thought he oughter ”jine” his daughter,
Now he’s with his clementine.
In a corner of the churchyard,
Where the myrtle boughs entwine,
Grow the roses in their poses,
Fertilized by Clementine.
In my dreams she still doth haunt me,
Robed in garments soaked in brine.
Though in life I used to hug her,
Now she’s dead, I’ll draw the line.
Now you Boy Scouts, there’s a moral
To this little tale of mine.
Would have saved my Clementine.