The Watchmaker' Shop ~
A street in our town has a queer little shop
With tumble - down walls and a thatch on the top;
and all the wee windows with crookedy panes
are shining and winking with watches and chains.
all sorts and all sizes, in silver and gold,
and brass ones and tin ones, and new ones and old;
and clocks for the kitchen, and clocks for the hall,
high ones and low ones, and wag -at -the -wall
The watchmaker sits on a long-legged seat
and bids you the time of the day when you meet;
and round and about him there's tickety-tock
from the tiniest watch to the grandfather clock.
I wonder he doesn't get tired of the chime
and all the clocks ticking and telling the time;
But there he goes winding lest any should stop,
This queer little man in the watchmaker's shop.
Anonymous
This is from
http://photography-on-the.net/forum/showthread .php?t=21541
There is a BBC schools site that says the poem is by Elizabeth Fleming - but cannot confirm that. Anyway hope this helps.