How the Grandfather Clock Got Its Name

'My Grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf, So it stood ninety years on the floor... ...And it stopped short, never to go again, when the old man died.' Do you remember that song? The grandfather clock actually exists and the story it tells is a true one. In fact, it's how the grandfather clock got its name. The George Hotel is a 16th century coaching inn on the banks of the River Tees in Piecebridge, North Yorkshire, England. In the late 19th century, the George Hotel was managed by the Jenkins brothers, a couple of bachelors. In the hotel lobby stood a long case clock which could always be relied on to keep good time. Sadly, one of the brothers died suddenly and the clock began to lose time - at first just 15 minutes a day, then up to an hour a day and no clockmaker could repair it. The locals thought it no coincidence that when the other brother died at the age of ninety, the long case clock stopped, never to go again. The hotel's new manager left the clock exactly as it was in the lobby and in 1875 a visiting American songwriter heard the story of this amazing coincidence and came to the George Hotel to see the clock for himself. He told the story in a song and Henry Clay Work's lyrics were published when he returned to America. Over a million copies of the song sheet, 'My Grandfather's Clock' were sold. And that's how the grandfather clock got it's name. The George Hotel still stands on the banks of the River Tees in Piecebridge, North Yorkshire and offers reasonably priced accommodation. It has four poster beds, a bar and restaurant and an inglenook fireplace. It is a convenient base for exploring the North Yorkshire Moors and the Dales, as well as being a living piece of grandfather clock history. My Grandfather's Clock By Henry Clay Work Copyright unknown 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 he was born, It was always his treasure and pride, And it stopped short, never to go again, when the old man died. In watching its pendulum swing to and fro, Many hours he spent as a boy. And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know, And it shared both his sorrow and joy. And it struck twenty-four when he entered the door, With a blooming and beautiful bride, And it stopped short, never to go again, when the old man died. Ninety years without slumbering, tick, tock, tick, tick, It's life seconds numbering, tick tock, tick, tock, And 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. It wasted no time and it had one desire, At the end of the week to be wound. And it stayed in its place, not a frown upon its face, And it's hands never hung by it's side, And it stopped short, never to go again, when the old man died. Now it rang an alarm in the still of the night, An alarm that for years had been dumb. We knew that his spirit was pluming in flight, That his hour of departure had come. Still the clock kept its time with a soft and muffled chime, As we silently stood by his side, And it stopped short, never to go again, when the old man died. Ninety years without slumbering, tick, tock, tick, tick, It's life seconds numbering, tick tock, tick, tock, And it stopped short, never to go again, when the old man died.