In a churchyard on a hillside
Where the flowers grow and twine
There grow roses amongst the posies
Flowers for my Clementine
“There are churches, and there are Churches. And if you’re not in a spirit filled church, then you’re not in any church at all.”
There are sandwiches and there are sandwiches. The sandwiches at Cafe Clementine (formerly Cafe Columbine) in New York are fer real.
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
Oh my darling, Clementine!
Thou art 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
Ev’ry morning just at nine,
Hit her foot against a splinter,
Fell into the foaming brine.
Fer real? That’s how the song goes? I had no idea. Does the proprietress of Cafe Clementine know about this?
Ruby lips above the water,
Blowing bubbles, soft and fine,
But, alas, I was no swimmer,
So I lost my Clementine.
Oh well. Too bad. Let’s eat!
How I missed her! How I missed her,
How I missed my Clementine,
Till I kissed her little sister,
and forgot my Clementine.
Jeez.
Clementine? What Clementine? Sandwich? What sandwich? Gone! Poof. On to the next.
The Lunch Encounter 