Worse than the Devil is Old Trombone

Worse than the devil is terrible old trombone,
The Angel that lives in the grandfather clock alone.
For there is a door in the back of that rickety clock,
Behind the great pendulum swinging so low is the lock.

And were you to open that door with a slow drawn out creak,
You’ll see a long hallway with floorboards and walls white and bleak,
And there at the end stands the Angel of unfeeling stone,
He’s gazing ahead with his merciless face like bone.

And through all the ticks and the tocks he won’t move but a twitch,
But his eyes always follow you, for he has a dreadful itch,
He’s waiting until the great grandfather clock tocks it’s last,
and once it has done so, he’ll move so horrendously fast.

He’s waiting and waiting until comes the end of days,
For when that day comes and there will be no more delays,
He won’t even smile as he harvests the screams and wails,
It won’t even matter to him if the devil prevails.

Worse than the devil is terrible old trombone,
The Angel that lives in the grandfather clock alone,
For there is a door in the back of that rickety clock,
Behind the great pendulum swinging so low is the lock.