This Old Pocket Watch Poem by Owen Cullimore

This old Pocket Watch
In 1680, made in MaidaVale
If it could talk
What a tale it could tell
The old watchmaker
Slaved away all day
To bring to life his creation
This timepiece, by the end of the day
Sold to a merchant traveling
From Bath to Bristol
When he was held up
By Dick Turpin and his pistol
So the pocket watch found a new owner
For a number of years or so
Until the day that Dick Turpin was hanged
What a way to go

For a couple of centuries
It disappeared from view
But turned up in a auction in London
From whence it came no one knew
Bought by a London banker
As a present for his son
Who was that very morning
Leaving to fight for his country at Verdun
With the watch safely in his uniform pocket
It was carried over the ocean blue
To where our gallant soldier fell in battle
Just outside the town of Acentoo
The watch was found and brought back to England
And became a family heirloom
Passed down from son to son
As wealthy families do
Now the proud possession of the Earl of Wessex
A scholar and a man of note it's true
And it still keeps perfect time
Considering all that it's been through
So always remember
When you look at something really old and battered
What history it could contain and recant
If it could talk and say what really mattered