The Boxer

I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told I have squandered my existence On a pocket full of mumbles such are promises All lies in jest, 'til 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, seeking out the poor quarters Where the ragged people go looking for the places Only they would know Li la li Li la li, li li li li Li la li Li la li, li li li li Li la li Only seeking workman's wages I come looking 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 In a-laying out my winter clothes And wishing I was home, going home Where the New York City winters Aren't a-bleeding me, bleeding me Going home Da da da da da Da da da da da da da da Da da da da da da da In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of every bloke that laid him down or cleft him 'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving but the fighter still remains" Li la li Li la li, li li li li Li la li Li la li, li li li li Li la li