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, a man hears what he wants to hear, but disregards the rest
 Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm
 When I left my home and family I was no more than a boy in the company of strangers
 In the quiet of a railway station, running scared
 Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go
 Looking for the places only they would know
 Lie-la-lie
 Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-la-lie
 Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
 Asking only 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
 La-la-la-la-la-la-la
 ♪
 Then 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
 Mm-mm-mm
 Lie-la-lie
 Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-la-lie
 Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-la-lie
 Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-la-lie
 Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-la-lie
 Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie