The Boxer

FI am just a poor boy though my story's seldom Dmtold
I have Csquandered my resistance
For a C7pocket full of C6mumbles, such are Fpromises
All lies and Dmjest, still a Cman hears what he Bwants to hear
And disregards the Frest C, C7, C6, F

When I Fleft my home and my family, I was no more than a Dmboy
In the Ccompany of strangers
In the C7quiet of a C6railway station, Frunning scared
Laying Dmlow, seeking Cout the poorer Bquarters
Where the ragged people Fgo
Looking Cfor the places C7only Bthey would Fknow

CHORUS:
Lie la Dmlie, Lie la Amlie la lie la lie, Lie la Dmlie,
CLie la lie la la la la, lie la la la la Flie.

Asking Fonly workman's wages I come looking for a Dmjob
But I get no Coffers
Just a C7come-on from the C6whores on Seventh FAvenue
I do deDmclare, there were Ctimes when I was Bso lonesome
I took some comfort Fthere

CLie lie lie lie la B, B, F
CHORUS:

Then I'm Flaying out my winter clothes and wishing I was Dmgone
GoingChome 
Where theC7New York City wintersC6aren't Fbleeding me Am
Leading Dmme, to going Chome C7 F

In the Fclearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his Dmtrade
And he Ccarries a reminder of ev'ry C7glove that laid him down
Or Fcut him till he cried out in his anger and his Dmshame
I am Cleaving, I am Bleaving
But the fighter still reFmains mmmCmm mmmm C7 F

CHORUS: