The Boxer

I'm just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told
I have squadered my resistance for a pocketful of numbles
Such are promises
All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest (la-la lay)

La-la lay, la-lay, la-lay

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
Looking 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

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 (ooh la-lay, la-lay)

Lay la-lay, lay-lay, la-lay
Lay la-lay (lay la-lay)
Lay la-lay, lay-lay, la-lay
Lay la-lay
Lay la-lay, lay-lay, la-lay
Lay la-lay

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
And cut him 'til he cried out, in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving
But the fighter still remains

Lay la-lay (lay la-lay)
Lay la-lay, lay-lay, la-lay
Lay la-lay
Lay la-lay, lay-lay, la-lay
Lay la-lay
Lay la-lay, lay-lay, la-lay
Lay la-lay