Broken Clock

Its hands still move from time to time, 
If the wind is up and blowing;
But not without a creaking sound, 
And only very slowly. 

At three and six and nine and twelve,
It swears a solemn oath.  
At half past one, it tells you where 
Instead of when to go. 

At one and four and seven and ten, 
The weather will be fair; 
But if it strikes eleven, two, 
Or five or eight, beware.