Grandfather’s Clock

I was fortunate that as a child my parents read to me.  My father read to me from the Jungle Book, Robinson Crusoe and Treasure Island,  just to name a few. My mother read me what was age appropriate beginning with Mother Goose rhymes, Winnie the Pooh, classical fairy tales and even Edgar Allen Poe’s, Tales of Mystery and Imagination.

Jungle Book Cover Rudyard Kipling

Title Page, Robinson Crusoe by Alexander Selkirk

My father was a geologist and we took frequent long road trips to look at geology.  In an effort to entertain me, their only child, we would sing songs and one of my favorite songs has always been My Grandfather’s Clock, written by Henry Clay Work.

Grandfather’s Clock by Henry C. Work

My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor;
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride;
But it stopped short — never to go again —
When the old man died.

Ninety years without slumbering

Four Generations of Grandfathers and future Fathers and Grandfathers.

(tick, tock, tick, tock),

His life’s seconds numbering,
(tick, tock, tick, tock),

It stopp’d short — never to go again —

When the old man died.

My father recently passed away at 98 years old. He lived a rich and accomplished life and was a remarkable father, grandfather and great grandfather. He had a huge influence on my life and I will miss him every day for the rest of my life. 

Four Generations, May 1,2015

In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent while a boy;
And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know
And to share both his grief and his joy.
For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door,
With a blooming and beautiful bride;
But it stopped short — never to go again —
When the old man died.

Ninety years without slumbering
(tick, tock, tick, tock),

His life’s seconds numbering,
(tick, tock, tick, tock),

It stopped short — never to go again —

When the old man died.

My grandfather said that of those he could hire,
Not a servant so faithful he found;
For it wasted no time, and had but one desire —
At the close of each week to be wound.
And it kept in its place — not a frown upon its face,
And its hands never hung by its side.
But it stopped short — never to go again —
When the old man died.

Ninety years without slumbering
(tick, tock, tick, tock),

His life’s seconds numbering,
(tick, tock, tick, tock),

It stopp’d short — never to go again —

When the old man died.

It rang an alarm in the dead of the night —
An alarm that for years had been dumb;
And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight —
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time, with a soft and muffled chime,
As we silently stood by his side;
But it stopped short — never to go again —
When the old man died.

Ninety years without slumbering
(tick, tock, tick, tock),

His life’s seconds numbering,
(tick, tock, tick, tock),

It stopped short — never to go again —

When the old man died.^[3][4]