The Boxer
Simon & Garfunkel Lyrics
I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
When I left my home and my family
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station
Running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places
Only they would know
Lie la lie, lie la la la lie la lie, lie la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, la la la 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
La la la la la la la
Lie la lie, lie la la la lie la lie, lie la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, la la la la lie
Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters
Aren't bleeding me
Leading me
Going home
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
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, lie la la la lie la lie, lie la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, la la la la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, lie la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, la la la la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, lie la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, la la la la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, lie la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, la la la la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, lie la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, la la la la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, lie la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, la la la la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, lie la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, la la la la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, lie la lie
Lie la la la lie la lie, la la la la lie
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Written by: Paul Simon
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"The Boxer" is a folk ballad written by Paul Simon in 1968 and first recorded by Simon and Garfunkel. It was released as the follow up single to their number one hit "Mrs. Robinson", and reached #7 in the US charts. It later appeared on their last studio album, Bridge over Troubled Water, along with its B-side "Baby Driver". It is particularly known for its plaintive refrain, in which the singer sings the tune as 'lie-la-lie', and the memorable finger-picking guitar played by guitarist Fred Carter, Jr. Read Full Bio"The Boxer" is a folk ballad written by Paul Simon in 1968 and first recorded by Simon and Garfunkel. It was released as the follow up single to their number one hit "Mrs. Robinson", and reached #7 in the US charts. It later appeared on their last studio album, Bridge over Troubled Water, along with its B-side "Baby Driver". It is particularly known for its plaintive refrain, in which the singer sings the tune as 'lie-la-lie', and the memorable finger-picking guitar played by guitarist Fred Carter, Jr.. Rolling Stone ranked the song #105 on their list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.
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Heywood Jabuzoff
If—
BY RUDYARD KIPLING
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
travis meyer
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
Running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-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 7th Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there, la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone, going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me
Leading me, going home
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
I love you
sanjana banerjee
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
Running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-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 7th Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there, la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone, going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me
Leading me, going home
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Scruffy P
It's cool being a young person and stumbling across stuff like this. It's like music from another dimension
James Nicholson
JAMES SCOTT NICHOLSON,LIFE LONG MUSICIAN. THE ANSWER MY BROTHER FROM THE SAME KIND O MOTHER, IS PEOPLE REALLY SANG (NO AUTO TUNING) THE MUSIC WAS RECORDED STRAIGHT OFF THE FLOOR, BY INFALLIBLE SESSION PLAYERS, WHO HAD THE OPTION OF PLAYING EACH VERSE AND
ALL THE SAME, BUT ADD DIFFERENT CHARACTERISTICS TO EACH . TODAY, SOCIETY HAS BEEN LAZY,
SO YOU RECORD 1 VERSE AND THEN ON COMPUTER, CUT AND PASTE SO TO SPEAK THE 1RECORDED
VERSE FOR ALL THE VERSES. CHORUS, SAME CONCEPT. MAKING THE MUSIC REPETITIVE AND SO IT GETS BORING WAY QUICKER. A EXAMPLE OF A OLD CLASSIC ,ACTUALLY STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN. IT STARTS SLOW, AND GRADUALLY CRESCENDOING TO THAT FAMISHED ENDING.... ONE MANS KNOWLEDGE, ANOTHER MANS WISDOM. AND AT 51 ,IT MAKES MY HEART SMILE TO HEAR YOUTH LIKING OLDER MUSIC??? LIKE ANYTHING IN LIFE, THE LONGER IT IS DONE, THE BETTER IT BECOMES.
♥️♥️✌️🇨🇦🙏💯%🌎🕊☮️&♋️🙏I AM HAVING POETRY PUBLISHED,THIS IS FOR IT...🍀📝🎼🍀
ssp sp
@Ayden SalazarI know probably everyone in your life tells you this, but enjoy this time of your life as much as you possibly can. I’m getting close to 30 now, and I’d give up at least a couple of fingers, maybe even a kidney to go back to being a teenager again. I understand how cringey it sounds, but it’s true. Life comes at you so fast. One day you’re 16-17 with your entire life ahead of you and then in a blink of an eye you’re 30. I still have plenty of life to live (hopefully) but I’ll never feel like I did when I was 16 again. Enjoy it, dude.
ssp sp
I don’t know how old you are, but I’m 28 and I remember discovering 60s music as a young teenager and I definitely felt the same way.
keepitsimple
You are correct. I am 70 years old and everytime I hear this song it takes me to a time that was golden. These two had many hits that will span many generations to come. Paul Simon is a master of lyrics. There were so many other artists, ie Crosby Stills Nash & Young. Bob Dylan was also a master of lyrics.
Chris Luc
My mom used to listen to a lot of music I always go and search up the good stuff when I get the blues
Marc Troyer
My mother used to play this album when it was nap time :) Everything thats good about me came from her. She lost her battle with cancer when she was only 49 in 2005. Everytime I play this she is right there again. Thank you Mom.
Marc Troyer
@Carmrick Farbosanti pardon ?
Marc Troyer
@Joshua Liddell I hope and pray for you both.
Marc Troyer
@John Clark Life is not easy , even the easy ones.