| My grandfather’s clock
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| Was too large for the shelf
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| So it stood ninety years on the floor;
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| It was taller by half
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| Than the old man himself
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| Though it weighed not a single pound more
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| It was bought on the morn
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| Of the day that he was born
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| And was always his treasure and pride;
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| But it stopped, short never to go again
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| When the old man died
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| The whole clock let down
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| On the first step he took
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| As he left my great grandmother’s arms
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| It watched over him
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| When he read his first book
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| And he saw his first lov and her charm
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| Through his laughter and tears
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| It kpt calling off the years
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| And its proud voice was heard far and wide
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| But it stopped, short never to go again
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| When the old man died
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| In watching its pendulum swing to and fro
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| Many hours had he watched as a boy
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| While the clock take the long
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| Never fast, never slow
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| Till one day it ran wild in his joy
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| For it struck 24 when he entered at the door
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| With a blushing and beautiful bride
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| But it stopped, short never to go again
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| When the old man died |