Down on the corner,
Out in the street,
Where the hoboes are playing,
Bringing nickels at their feet.

The story:

I think my sister corrected me, but I don't remember the moment
too well, just my vivid mental image of a bunch of ragged bums
sitting at the street corner strumming banjos and blowing into
harmonicas, and an enthusiastic crowd of listeners throwing
change on the pavement at their feet.