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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.
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.
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.
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.
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Henry Clay Work. "Grand-Father's Clock: Song and Chorus." Music and lyrics:
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