{The boxer}

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.]