I am just a poor boy though my story`s seldom told I have squandered my existence On a pocket full of mumbles such are promises All lies in jest, till a man hears what he wants to hear And disregards the rest
Well 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 runnin` scared Layin` low seeking out the poor quarters Where the ragged people go, looking for the places Only they would know
Li Li Li [etc.]
Only seeking 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
In a-laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was home Going home Where the New York City winters aren`t a-bleding me Bleeding me Going home
Da Da Da [etc.]
In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of every bloke that laid him down or cleft him Till he cried out in his anger and his shame I am leaving, I am leaving But the fighter still remains
Li Li Li [etc.]
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