( "Skid-Row" - 1947) 
The Wall Street tycoon 
ate his lunch every noon 
on a bench in 
Old Battery Park.

He loved the birds and the trees; 
the ships bound over-seas - 
But he'd never go there 
after dark.

Sitting beside him, 
with no food inside him, 
was a young man - 
a "down-and-out" seaman.

The tycoon's home was a suite - 
'the sailor's, that very seat! 
Yet - there they sat 
with a chess board between them.

In that corner of the park, 
chess was played 'dawn to dark', 
and the "elite" were the 
poor Russian Jews.

With no consideration 
for social status or station, 
they were "masters" 
(with holes in their shoes.)

The sailor and the tycoon 
met there 'most every noon 
and played their usual 
"off-handed" game.

'No warm words or greetings, 
just cold chess proceedings, 
and neither knew his opponent 
by name.

As summer faded to fall, 
they still met on that mall. 
The sailor shivered 
in his thin dungarees.

The tycoon was composed - 
warm from head to his toes, 
and smugly smiled 
in the cold Autumn breeze.

Winter ended their sessions 
With no farewells - no concessions. 
The tycoon returned to his 
wealth and acclaim.

The sailor recalls his sad plight, 
but still smiles with delight - 
For he'd humbled the tycoon 
'Most EVERY game!