The Tale of the Grand Father Clock

Grandfather Clock

He stands on the stairs,
Just half-way down,
Weathered and worn and old and brown,
Stilled is his 'tick' and dumb his chime
And nobody asks him what's the time,
Nobody asks him,
Nobody cares,
Nobody stops on the way down stairs,
To look at his honest face and see.
That he's never moved on from half past three.

The dining room clock is wound each night,
The clock in the drawing room's always right,
And down in the kitchen cook declares
Her clock goes better than those upstairs.
The clock in the study, the clock in the hall,
The great round clock on the nursery wall,
Yes, every clock may work with a will.
But up on the landing time stand still.

The day has gone since Grandfather Clock
Filled the house with his deep 'tick-tock,'
His 'tick' is still and his chime is dumb,
And he'll stay like that till kingdom come.
But although he is always half-past three,
'Well, once every day I'm right' says he.
'There's little a worn out clock can do,
But once every day my hands point true!

Hugh Chesterman,

could you not see in your mind the big Grand Father Clock standing on the corner of the stairs. The old Victorian Houses and Edwardian Houses had three main floors then the cellar. We lived in the bottom floor and bathed in the cellar, tin bath and all. plus the spiders, always the spiders. my Grandmother and Auntie Irene lived in the front of the house and my Auntie Grace, Uncle Bill and cousin on the second floor. They also had a bathroom, wow, we never used it mind. Grandmother's, Grandfather Clock stood on the landing at the top of the second flight of stairs. Funny how stories can bring back memories of ones own child-hood.