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DI am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told. G
I have squandereAd my resistance,
For a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises. D
All lies and jest.Bm
Still a manA hears what he wants to Ghear and disregards the rest. D A D
DWhen I left my home and my family I was no more than a boy, G
In the compaAny of strangers,
In the quiet of a railway station, runnin' scared.D
Laying low,Bm seeking out theA poorer quarters, G
Where the ragged people go. D
Lookin' for Athe places, only tGhey would Aknow. D
BmA
BmGAD
Asking only workman's wages I come lookin' for a job, G Bm
But I get no offersA,
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue. D
I do declare Bmthere were times wheAn I was so lonesome, G
I took some comfort there la, la, Dla, la, la, la, la, laA, la
DThen I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone, G
Going home,A where the New York City winters aren't bleedin' me. D
BmBleadin' me, tF#mo goin' homeA. D
DIn the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade, G
And he carriesA the reminders of every glove that laid him down,
Or cutD him 'til he cried out in his anger and his shame, Bm
"I am leavingA, I am leaving." G
But the fighter still remains. D A D
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