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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.
Ninety years without slumbering,
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
His life seconds numbering,
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
It stopp'd short
Never to go again,
When the old man died.
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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 stopp'd short
Never to go again,
When the old man died.
Ninety years without slumbering,
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
His life seconds numbering,
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
It stopp'd short
Never to go again,
When the old man died.
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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 its flight,
That his hour of
departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time,
With a soft 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 seconds numbering,
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
It stopp'd short
Never to go again,
When the old man died.
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