| C | Em/B | Am | |
| I am just a poor boy though my story's | seldom | told |
| G | |
| I have | squandered my resistance |
| G7 | G | C | |
| For a | pocket full of | mumbles, such are | promises |
| Am | G | F | |
| All lies and | jest, still a | man hears what he | wants to hear |
| C | G | F | Em | C | |
| And disregards the | rest |
| C | Em/B | Am | |
| When I | left my home and my family, I was no more | than a | boy |
| G | |
| In the | company of strangers |
| G7 | G | C | |
| In the | quiet of a | railway station, | running scared |
| Am | G | F | |
| Laying | low, seeking | out the poorer | quarters |
| C | |
| Where the ragged people | go |
| G | F | G | C | |
| Looking | for the places | only | they would | know |
| Am | G | Am | |
| Lie la | lie, Lie la | la la la la lie lala lie, Lie la | lie, |
| F | G | C | |
| Lie la | lie la la la | la, lie la la la la | lie. |
| C | Em/B | Am | |
| Asking | only workman's wages I come looking | for a | job |
| G | |
| But I get no | offers |
| G7 | G | C | |
| Just a | come-on from the | whores on Seventh | Avenue |
| Am | G | F | |
| I do de | clare, there were | times when I was | so lonesome |
| C | |
| I took some comfort | there |
| G | F | Em | C | |
| Lie lie lie lie la |
| C | Em/B | Am | |
| Then I'm | laying out my winter clothes and wishing | I was | gone |
| G | G7 | C | Am | |
| Going | home... where the | New York City winters aren't | bleeding me |
| Em | Am | G | |
| Leading | me, | going | home. |
| C | Em/B | Am | |
| In the | clearing stands a boxer and a fighter | by his | trade |
| G | G7 | |
| And he | carries a reminder of ev'ry | glove that laid him down |
| C | Am | |
| Or | cut him till he cried out in his anger and his | shame |
| G | F | |
| I am | leaving, I am | leaving |
| C | |
| But the fighter still re | mains |
| G | F | Em | C | |
| ( | Lie lie lie lie la | ..again if you want. |
| Chorus |