The song tells the story of a poor boy who leaves his home and family to travel to New York City in search of work. However, he finds only rejection and loneliness in the city. Throughout his struggles, he remains a fighter at heart. In the end, although he is leaving New York, the hardships of his journey will always remain with him.
5. The Boxer
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
Lie la lie...
Seeking only 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
6. And I'm laying out my winter clothes,
wishing I was gone, goin' home
Where the New York city winters aren't bleedin' me,
leadin' me to go 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
Yes, he still remains ...
Lie la lie...
8. The Boxer
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
Lie la lie...
Asking only 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...
Lie la lie...
9. And I'm laying out my winter clothes,
wishing I was gone, 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...
Lie la lie...
11. The Boxer
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
Lie la lie...
Seeking only 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
12. Now the years are rolling by me,
they are rockin' even me
I am older than I once was, and younger than I'll be,
that's not unusual
No it isn't strange, after changes upon changes,
we are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same ...
Sing lie la lie...
And I'm laying out my winter clothes,
wishing I was gone, goin' home
Where the New York city winters aren't bleedin' me,
leadin' me to go 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
Yes, he still remains ...
Lie la lie...
14. The Boxer
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 and 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...
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
15. In a-laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was home
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren't a-bleeding me
Bleeding me
Going home
Da Da Da...
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 cleft 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...
17. The Boxer
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
Lie la lie...
Seeking only 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
18. Now the years are rolling by me,
they are rockin' even me
I am older than I once was, and younger than I'll be,
that's not unusual
No it isn't strange, after changes upon changes,
we are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same ...
Sing lie la lie...
And I'm laying out my winter clothes,
wishing I was gone, goin' home
Where the New York city winters aren't bleedin' me,
leadin' me to go 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
Yes, he still remains ...
Lie la lie...