I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told.

I have squandered my resistance on a pocketful of mumbles

Such are promises. All lies in jest,

Still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.

Hmm, hmm, hmm hmm,

Hmm

Left my home and my family 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 places only they would know.

Lie la lie, lie la lie lie lie la lie, lie la lie

Lie la lie lie lie la lie, la la la la 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.

And I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone,

Goin' home, where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me,

Leading me, going home.

In the clearing stand a boxer and a fighter by his trade

And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down

Or cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame,

I am leaving, I am leaving but the fighter still remains.

Hmm Hmm.

Lie la lie, lie la lie lie lie la lie, lie la lie

Lie la lie lie lie la lie, la la la la lie.