My friend had a wonderful Grandfather clock

It had belonged to his Dad.

It became his obsession, his pride and his joy,

And it drove his poor wife nearly mad.

For hours he would stand in front of this clock

And should it not chime he would reel back in shock;

But if it were only one beat that it missed

He could call straight away for the horologist.

He spent so much money, it just wasn’t funny,

And at last his wife said-’I’ll be bound

You’re so fond of this piece, when at last you do cease

You’ll take it with you underground.’

Then she had an idea, which wasn’t so queer

The day her spouse went to his Maker.

Though she gave way to grief, she found some relief

When she spoke to the calm undertaker.

‘My husband was so very fond of this clock,

From it he was never parted;

So now I would like it instead of a coffin,

It would so please my dear departed.’

‘It certainly is a quite strange request;

However, dear madam, we will do our best.’

One the day of the funeral the clock was wheeled in,

It had such a beautiful shine,

And the mourners agreed, in fact and in deed

A coffin was not half so fine.

When the clock had been lowered deep into the earth

There came forth a sound that caused so much mirth.

Was there a reason – what could it mean?

As a final farewell, the clock struck thirteen!