| Chopped olive sandwiches, roses and wine
|
| Cold ripe persimmons, my sweet Clementine
|
| There’s a chill in the meadow, of bottomless time
|
| I go on, I go on, I cannot fill my cup
|
| There’s a hole in the bottom, the spring has dried up
|
| I run through the forests of linear time
|
| Chop through the branches and cut through the vines
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| I’ll be back in a moment, though it may take me years
|
| In the lava rock canyons corroded with fears
|
| Of corruptible bodies and grief beyond tears
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| I’ll go on till I hear the sweet voices behind
|
| That I’ve left for the comfort of cold Clementine
|
| This is the 2 Feb 1968 version:
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| Chopped olive sandwiches, roses and wine
|
| Red ripe persimmons, my sweet Clementine (note 1)
|
| I go on, I go on, I can’t fill my cup
|
| There’s a hole in the bottom, the well has dried up
|
| I run through the forest, I cut past the vine
|
| Head through the thickets of linear time
|
| (A field full) of voices, sweet voices behind (note 2)
|
| I’ve left for the comfort of cold Clementine
|
| Notes
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| (1) the 20 Jan 1968 version is «Cold ripe persimmons» |
| (2) the 23 Jan 1968 version is «…never was mine»
|
| The 20 Jan 1968 version is essentially the same as the 2 Feb one,
|
| but with the first verse only. |
| The 23 Jan 1968 version has Jerry singing the
|
| first verse, then repeating the first two lines of the first verse,
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| followed by the third and fourth lines of the second verse
|
| The 26 Jan 1969 version is a more complete one:
|
| Chopped olive sandwiches, roses and wine
|
| Cold ripe persimmons, my sweet Clementine
|
| There’s a chill in the meadow of bottomless time
|
| I go on, I go on, I can’t fill my cup
|
| There’s a hole in the bottom, the spring has dried up
|
| Just a thought for the moment, it never was mine
|
| Just like a (fat through) and cut past the vines
|
| I run through the forests of linear time
|
| I go on, I go on, I can’t fill my cup
|
| I go on, I go on, though it might take me years
|
| In the lava rock canyons all corroded with fears
|
| Corruptible bodies and grief beyond tears
|
| I go on till I hear the sweet voices behind
|
| That I’ve left for the comfort of cold Clementine |