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Robert W Service - Patches
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Mother focused with a frown
The part of me where I sit down.
Said she: "Your pants are wearing through;
Let me sew on a patch for you."
And so she did,—of azure blue.
My britches were of sober grey,
And when I went to school next day,
The fellows said: "Excuse our smile:
We saw your patch `way off a mile."
Said I: "Sure, it`s the latest style."

So each boy asked his Ma to match
With bluer blue my super-patch,
And when to school they came en masse,
It was the emblem of our class,
Admired by every bonnie lass.

Now when I`m old and in my dotage,
I hope I`ll have a humble cottage,
And sit me by a hive of bees,
A patchwork quilt accross my knees,
Warming my worn hands in the sun,
All ropey with the work they`ve done.

The work they`ve done to give me this
Brief bit of comfort, ease and bliss;
My pathway edged with cockle shells,
And bright with Canterbury bells,
That leads to where my humble thatch is,
It, too, adorned with straw-bright patches.
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