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 my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station runnin' scared

Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Asking only workman's wages
I come lookin' for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come on from the *****s on 7th Avenue

I do declare, there were times
When I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
La, la, la

Now the years are rolling by me
They are rockin' evenly
And I am older than I once was
And younger than I'll be that's not unusual

It isn't strange after changes upon changes
We are more or less the same
After changes, we are more or less the same

And I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was home, goin' home
Where the New York City winters
Aren't bleedin' me, leadin' me, goin' home

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminder
Of every glove that laid him down or cut him

'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving
But the fighter still remains
I am leaving, but the fighter still remains