You can sit on me, and ironically, I am a discrete word for what comes out of the part of your body with which you sit on me.

Underfoot, it's lucky and round, Keeps the horse's hoof safe and sound. A symbol of fortune, for those who believe, In the old country, it was nailed with reprieve.

Despite my name, I'm probably one of the last places where you'd choose to lay down.

I lock things up tight or help you to run away fast.

A sleeveless shield for chill, it hugs the chest so still. A layer light and neat, warmth it does discreet.