They're Always There the Sparrow (Passer Domesticus) Poem by john (called jack) wren

They're always there, even
when its bleak and bare,
pecking away at this and that
foraging in their little grey hat.

Their black bib tucked neatly in,
in case the dribble down the chin
to keep their waistcoat dry and clean,
in case a lady may intervene.

While out perusing for a date
with the intention to procreate
and frown at one's dirty attire
instead of gazing to admire.

Have no fear, all is well,
there is a happy tale to tell
from one he received a wink,
and now they're both in the pink.