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, till a man hears what he wants to hear   And disregards the rest      Well I left my home and 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 [etc.]      Only seeking workman's 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      In a'laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was home   Going home   Where the New York City winters aren't a'bleding me   Bleeding me   Going home      Da Da Da [etc.]      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   Till he cried out in his anger and his shame   I am leaving, I am leaving   But the fighter still remains      Li Li Li [etc.]