Shovel Meyer saw his chance
To compete and then advance
In the game, the daily dance
For dimes in dirty under pants

Shovel was in competition
With established street traditions
Like a nudist or mortician
He spent his day in exhibition

Today was now his time to shine
Like seagulls on the foamy brine
Like spittle on his dollar wine
He'd do his dance in double time

Shovel shuffled for his dimes
Competing with the silent mimes
'Gainst fire eaters, bards with rhymes
And a guy who juggled limes

When the urban show was through
Tourists gone and people few
Shovel counted dollars -- two
Tomorrow he would start anew