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
Laying low, seeking 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...

Lie-la-lie...

And I'm laying out my winter clothes
and wishing I was gone, goin’ home
Where the New York City winters aren't
bleedin' me, leadin' me 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 leaving, I am leaving."
But the fighter still remains.

Lie-la-lie ...

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