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I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told |
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I have squandered my resistance |
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For a pocketful of mumbles |
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Such are promises |
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All lies and jest, still the man hears what he wants to hear |
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And disregards the rest |
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When I left my home and family |
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I was no more than a boy |
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In the company of strangers |
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In the quiet of the railway station, running scared |
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Laying low seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go |
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Looking for the places only they would know |
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La la li |
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La la la la li la li |
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La la li |
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La la la la la la li la la la li |
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Asking only workman's wages I come looking for a job |
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But I get no offers |
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Just a come-on from some bitch |
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On Seventh Avenue |
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I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome |
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I took some comfort there, la la la la la la |
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(repeat chorus) |
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And I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone |
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Going home |
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Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me |
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Leading me going home |
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In the clearing stands a boxer |
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And a fighter by his trade |
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And he carries the reminders |
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Of every glove that laid him down or cut him |
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'til he cried out in his anger and his shame |
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I am leaving, I am leaving |
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But the fighter still remains |
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La la la la la la la la la li |
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(repeat chorus twice) |
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Yeay! Yeay! Yeay! Ow! |
