He lives up high, he watches from the sky,
Listen as he speaks with words foreign to me.
We met him one day as down he swooped,
A drink of water and a bit of bread, he flew.
Grouchy with a touch of blue, his name be “Jack”
A whistle to the wind, he appears from wherever he’ been.
Watching, always watching,” Jack” is now a friend,
With the morning light, he can be heard, before the stroke of six.
The little birds gather for food but watch for him they do,
He torpedoes down to terrorize them, makes them go away.
Back he comes with a look from side to side as he grabs the biggest
Piece and “Jack” just flies away.
He sits on the wood, he takes a bath,
He wants it all, a grouchy blue bird by the name of ” Jack”
The sun is falling, off to bed in the sky,
He’ll be back in the morning, fly Jack, fly.