I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told I have squandered my resistance For a pocketful of mumbles such are promises All lies and jest still a man hears what he wants to hear And disregards the rest ​

When I left my home and family I was no more than a boy In the company of strangers In the quiet of a railway station running scared Laying low seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go Looking for the places only they would know

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

Asking only workmans 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

Ooo-la-la la la la la ​ Lie-la-lie Lie-la-lie la lie-la-lie Lie la lie Lie-la-lie la la la la lie la la la la lie

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes And wishing I was gone Going home where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me Leading me ​ Going Home

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of ev'ry glove that laid him down or cut 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 la lie-la-lie Lie la lie Lie-la-lie la la la la lie la la la la lie

(repeat & fade)