[1] I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom [6m] told
I have [5] squandered my existence on a pocketful of mumbles such are [1] promises
All lies and [6m] jest 'til a [5] man hears what he [4] wants to hear and disregards the [1] rest [5]

[1] When I left my home and my family I was no more than a [6m] boy
In the [5] company of strangers in the quiet of the railway station running [1] scared
Laying [6m] low seeking [5] out the poor [4] quarters where the ragged people [1] go
Looking [5] for the places only they would [1] know

[6m] Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-[5]-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-[6m]-lie
Lie-la-[5]-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie

Only Seeking workman's wages I come looking for a job
but I get no offers just a come-on from the whores on 7th Avenue
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there

And a-laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was home,
Going home where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me
Leading [6m] me, going [5] home

[1] Da-da-da-da-[6m]-da-[5]-da
Da-da-[1]-da-da-da-da-[6m]-da-da-[5]-da-da
Da-da-da-da-[1]-da

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down
or kept him till he cried out In his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving but the fighter still remains

Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie