Church Clock

Unknowing, to and froing in the market place

The busy crowd sees not the face

Let’s watch the changing scenes of time

Over the centuries and under the chime

Forever, whatever weather the face appears

Blue in the cold with hands of golden spears

Compelled to move their circular way

And getting nowhere

At the end of the day

If only the stony tower in its splendour could tell

The sombre message of the bell

A piece of history remains untold

But the clock sees everything

With its blue face and its pointed hands of gold