Hickory, Dickory, Dock, the mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one, the mouse ran down.
Hickory, Dickory, Dock.
What really happened:
Years ago in the town of Dock there was a large clock. It was owned by Mr. Dickory, who raised mice and rabbits.
Mr Dickory’s grandfather had built the clock–a rather large one—himself, using parts of the sundial and clothes line that once graced the back yard of his lovely estate. He always wanted his grandson, Richard Dickory, to have the clock and made it clear in his will that William, Gertrude, Clem and Isaac were not to have it.
So Richard Dickory inherited the clock on his 42nd birthday after his grandfather died at the age of 101. Richard decided to build a case to enclose the clock, now called “the grandfather clock”, so he went to the outskirts of town and cut down two hickory trees. From them he crated a grandfather clock case.
However, the clock was unusual in several ways. First of all, instead of hands it had feet. Secondly, instead of going tick-tock, it went tock-tick. And finally, it was 15 feet tall, so high that Mr. Dickory had to keep it outside on the porch. The weather was often miserable and the clock began to warp and soon it resembled a humpback whale. To tell time Mr. Dickory had to stand on his head and use a mirror.
It wasn’t long before mice and rats began to have fun by running up and down and around the clock.
One day, one of the mice–pursued and frightened by a large black rat–ran backwards down the clock. Others soon followed by going backwards and the clock began to unwind. By now, with bad weather, the clock was now much shorter, so Mr Dickory decided to take it back into the house.
Of course, the mice and rats followed the clock into the house and then something strange happened. The clock began to strike. It struck one, then two, then struck all of the mice and rats.
They were dead and, in due time, Mr Dickery got used to the smell and lived happily every after. The rabbits didn’t seem to mind either.