^DI am just a poor boy, though my story is seldom ^Bmtold. I have ^Asquandered my resistance, For a ^A7pocketful of ^Amumbles, such are ^Dpromises. All lies and ^Bmjest; Still, a ^Aman hears what he ^Gwants to hear and disregards the ^Drest^A. ^{A7 A D}

When I ^Dleft my home and my family I was no more than a ^Bmboy, In the ^Acompany of strangers, In the ^A7quiet of the ^Arailway station, ^Drunning scared. Laying ^Bmlow, seeking ^Aout the poorer ^Gquarters, Where the ragged people ^Dgo. Looking ^Afor the places, ^Gonly ^Athey ^A7would ^Dknow.

Lie la ^Bmlie Lie la ^F#mlie la lie la lie Lie la ^Bmlie Lie la ^Alie la la la la lie la la la la ^Dlie

Asking ^Donly workman's wages I come looking for a ^Bmjob, But I get no ^Aoffers, Just a ^A7come-on from the ^Awhores on Seventh ^DAvenue. I do de^Bmclare there were ^Atimes when I was so ^Glonesome, I took some comfort ^Dthere Lie la ^Alie ^A7lie la la ^Alie ^{G D A D}

^DNow the years are rolling by me they are rocking ev^Bmenly I am ^Aolder than I once was And ^A7younger than I'll be; that's not un^Dusual. Nor is it ^Bmstrange after c^Ahanges upon c^Ghanges We are more or less the s^Dame After ^Achanges ^A7we are m^Gore or less t^G6he s^Dame

Lie la ^Bmlie Lie la ^F#mlie la lie la lie Lie la ^Bmlie Lie-la-^Alie la la la la lie la la la la ^Dlie

An^Dd I m laying out my winter clothes, and wishing ^BmI was gone^A, goin home Where the ^A7New York City ^Awinters aren t ^Dbleedin me, l^F#meadin me ^Bmgoin ho^Ame.

In the ^Dclearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his ^Bmtrade, And he ^Acarries the reminders, of ^A7every glove that ^Alaid him down, Or ^Dcut him 'til he cried out in his anger and his ^Bmshame, "^AI am leaving, ^GI am leaving." But the fighter still re^Dmains^{A A7 A D}

Lie la ^Bmlie Lie la ^F#mlie la lie-la-lie Lie la ^Bmlie Lie la ^Alie la la la la lie la la la la lie

^ALie la lie la la la la lie la la la la ^Dlie repeat and fade