I'm 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 And disregard the rest. La-la la, la-la la-la la-la la.
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 Lookin for the places Only they would know.
Lay-la lay Lay-la lay-lay lay-la lay Lay-la lay Lay-la lay-lay lay-la lay-lay lay-la lay.
Askin 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.
Then I'm laying out my winter clothes And wishing I was gone Going on 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 And cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame "I'm leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains |
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