My grandfather’s clock was too tall 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 penny-weight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his pleasure 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 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 seem'd to know,
And to share both his grief and his joy.
For it struck twenty four when he enter'd 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 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 hand 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 seconds numbering, tick, tock, tick, tock,
It stopped short never to go again
When the old man died.