Songtexte The Boxer - Live - Emmylou Harris

Thank you
I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told
I've squandered my existence
On a pocket full of mumbles, such odd promises
All I suggest, tell him any lies he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

Well, I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company, of strangers
In the quiet, of a railway station, running scared

Laying low, sneaking out, to the corners
Where the regular people go
Looking for the places, only they know

Ly-de-ly, ly-de-ly-ly-de-ly-ly-de-ly
-ly-de-ly ly-de-ly
Ly-de-ly

Gonna seek 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 all alone
So, don't you come today

In a layin' out, my winter clothes
Wishing I was home, goin' home
Where a New York City winter's, aren't needin' me
Leadin' me, goin' 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
Every glove, that's laid him down, and left until he cried out
In his anger and his shame
I am me, I am me
But the fighter, still remains

Ly-de-ly, ly-de-ly-ly-de-ly-ly-de-ly
-ly-de-ly ly-de-ly
Ly-de-ly