RETURN TO Carry On Tuesday

Saturday 10 December 2011

Carry On Tuesday # 135

The Clock of Life by Robert H. Smith

The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.

To lose one’s wealth is sad indeed,
To lose one’s health is more,
To lose one’s soul is such a loss
That no man can restore.

The present only is our own,
So Live, Love, toil with a will
Place no faith in “Tomorrow”
For the clock may then be still.

The Clock Poem
I'm in the clock crew and I'm okay!
I tick all night and I tick all day.
I've got two hands, I'm having a ball,
Because I've got no arms at all!
My big hand can move sixty minutes in one hour,
I'm the one with the strength and power.
My small hand isn't quite as fast.
If they were in a race, it would come last!
It takes so long just to get around (12 hours you know),
It's careful, small, and slow.
Now meet my friends that help me tick-tock,
Half past, quarter past, quarter to and o'clock.

The Faces Of The Clock
The Big Hand is busy
But the Small Hand has power.
The large one counts the minutes.
But the Little One names the hour.
When both Hands stand at the top together,
It's sure to be Twelve O'clock. But whether
That's twelve at noon or twelve at night
Depends on if it's dark or light.