A flea shine shoeshine man of fifteen Brings the house in with a smile All twelve teeth tell myriad stories One upon one and one The breath in his hand waving Drives the gypsy woman mad She loves him anyway Has told him so a thousand times or more She refuses to believe that At 42 years old She's not still a butterfly Ready for the net Bobby the fifteen Is turning strong and growing soft As can be seen by his patience with the animals He used to hate 'em, now lays down beside them To keep all from feeling sad As animals sometimes do He thinks of being old enough To marry the girl with two heads Their name is Gladys And they don't yet know Of the young man's fascination They're too busy drawing circles in their arms A flea shine shoeshine man of fifteen Floating into the next town Puts a straw in a Jim Beam bottle And lays his head down