The Little Old Clock Maker
A wizened little old man hunkered over his bench.
Gnarled hands wielded screwdriver, hammer and wrench.
Hung on the walls of his shop, all types of clocks were arrayed.
He'd been a clock maker for decades - he was master of his trade.
His quaint little shop was set in the Black Forest of Bavaria.
For his horology craft he was renowned in all the area.
Always smoking a pipe, the smoke forming a wreath about his head;
On his cluttered workbench, springs, gears and wheels were spread!
He could repair any old clock in a trice,
And have it back up and running for a reasonable price.
He could make you a fine clock from oak or cherry wood,
That would make you the envy of the neighborhood!
He adjusted pendulums to ensure a synchronous tick and tock.
Grandfather, cuckoo and mantel clocks he made from stock.
He took pride in his guild and his clocks are antiques today,
And in antique stores and museums, you'll find them on display.
To make his clocks he used no fancy lathes or tools,
Nor did he learn his craft in one of those elitist schools.
He dear old Father taught him everything he knew,
Telling him, "Son, be accurate and "timely" in all you do!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2010
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