My Grandfather's Clock

     The story is told of an old tall clock in the George Hotel in Piercebridge, Durham, England.  The inn was operated by the Jenkins Brothers and the clock, there in the lobby, kept perfect time.

      Eventually, one of the brothers died and the clock began losing time.  Clockmakers were called to effect repairs, but to no avail.  It still lost time.  After the second brother died, the clock quit altogether.

     The new owner of the George Hotel called for repairs, but no amount of effort or expense could make it run.  The clock, by now something of a legend, was kept polished, but was allowed to stand silent in the lobby.

     In the 1870s, American songwriter Henry Clay Work stayed at the George and was inspired by the mysterious old Grandfather Clock.  When he returned home, he wrote the story into a song, but making it his grandfather's clock to personalize the tale.

     Below, you'll find the lyrics to the song.  At least one recording of the music is available.

My Grandfather's Clock
Written By: Henry Clay Work (1832-1884)

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 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.
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.

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 his 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.
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

Page and photographs copyright 2003 by Neal Collier and Flomaton Antique Auction. Feel free to print these pages for personal use. Any commercial use of code or images is forbidden without permission. Hi-resolution images are available for license.