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
'Til a man hears
What he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
Well I left my home
And my 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
Li Li Li Li Li Li Li
Li Li Li
Li Li Li Li Li Li Li
Li Li Li
Only seeking
Workman's wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on
From the ******
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' bleeding me
Bleeding me
Going home
Da Da Da Da Da Da
Da Da Da Da Da
Da Da Da Da Da
Da Da Da Da Da
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 clept him
'Til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
I am leaving I am leaving
But the fighter still remains
Li Li Li
Li Li Li Li Li Li Li
Li Li Li
Li Li Li Li Li Li Li
Li Li Li