You carried me, when all was on fire,
You spoke to me, when I could not find a lyre,
You stopped for me, when in my hurry
I couldn’t see the sire.
Now, you’re dressed in black.
Our wedding, we make today.
And I can not kiss you, I fear,
You would gash, and weep,
That, I couldn’t bare.
My heart is cleft, as I look at you,
And I see of nothing, but a creature-
No pieces of you,
That weren’t taken by the fever.
Now what am I? What am I?
What could I be?
With dirt covering your face,
And mud locking down your skin -
I could never be whole,
I could never survive a fire.
I will never find the lyre,
And now I have to face the sire.
Spare me, my sweet Clementine-
Don’t cut my throat, with your dreadful lullaby.
I make amends and wear the ring, to my dismay
As it is I, your grieving fiancé.
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