The Boxer

I am just a poor boy
Though my story is seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises
All lies and jest
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin' scared
Layin' low, seekin' out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Lookin' for the places, only they would know
Lie-la-lie
Asking only workman’s wages
I come lookin' for a job
But I get no offers, just a come on
From the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare there were times
When I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
Lie-la-lie
And I’m layin' out my winter clothes
And wishin' I was gone, goin' home
Where the New York City winters aren’t bleedin' me
Leadin' me home, goin' home
In the clearing stands
A boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him 'til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
«I am leavin', I am leavin'»
But the fighter still remains, still remains
Lie-la-lie