a poem by Edwin Keith Jepson, UK - poetry writer, author, poet

There must be a hundred clocks
Designed with special bits
But there's one that takes me back a bit
An old one
At the pit
It wasn't much to look at
And you wouldn't give it space
But for every miner at the pit
It held the highest place
It never lost a minute
Of every working day
And it's a good job that it didn't
Or there would be deductions
From your pay
So when I see some fancy clocks
I have to smile a bit
For I wonder if they keep good time
Like the old one
At our pit

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