The Boxer

I am just a poor boy though my story’s seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jest, still the man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
When I left my home and family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, running scared
Laying low seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know
La la li
La la la la li la li
La la li
La la la la la la li la la la li
Asking only workman’s wages I come looking for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on from some bitch
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
(repeat chorus)
And I’m laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren’t bleeding me
Leading me going 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 leaving, I am leaving
But the fighter still remains
La la la la la la la la la li
(repeat chorus twice)
Yeay! Yeay! Yeay! Ow!