I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom t old
I have s quandered my existence
On a p ocket full of mumbles such are p romises
All lies in j est 'til a m an hears what he w ants to hear
And disregards the r est
Well I l eft my home and my family
I was no more than a b oy in the co mpany of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station ru nning scared l aying low
Seeking o ut the poor qua rters where the ragged people g o
Looking f or the places o nly th ey would k now
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Only s eeking workman's wages
I come looking for a j ob but I get no o ffers
Just a co me-on from the whores on Seventh A venue
I do decl are there were t imes when I was s o lonesome
I took some comfort t here
In a-la ying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was h ome going h ome
Where the N ew York City winters aren't a-bl eeding me
Bleeding m e going h ome
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In the c learing stands a boxer and a fighter by his t rade
And he c arries the reminders
Of every bloke that laid him down or c left him
'Til he cried out in his anger and his s hame
I am le aving I am le aving but the fighter still r emains
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