With patches bold and varied such
Folks seldom miss whose Jill or Jack
As I am brown where he is black
We're patched with spots of different stains
Like western ponys on the plains
Some birds have reds and others blues,
We're simply cast from different hues
Orange and golds and black or brown
Bits of gray and white are found
What some may see as serendipity
Is an artful choice of providentiality
A sweeter sound you'll never hear
Than when I call for my sweet dear
It starts with a whistle and ends with chatter
Sometimes it means that something's the matter
We're a quiet sort that scurries and scats
We don't hang around to cause any spats.
Our nest is always near the ground
Ne're in a tree will it be found
We forage and search throughout your yard
We find much to eat, it isn't hard
Some think we're dressed to the hilt
While others see but a patch-work quilt
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