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
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 la la lie lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie 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
Le le le le le le le

Lie la lie, lie la la la lie lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie 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 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 la la lie lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie la la lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la lie lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie la la lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la lie lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie la la lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la lie lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie la la lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la lie lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie la la lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la lie lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie la la lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la lie lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie la la lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la lie lie
Lie la lie, lie la la la la lie la la lie

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: PAUL SIMON

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Most interesting comments from YouTube:

Luca

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
Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm
Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm
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 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-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
Mm-mm-mm
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



Sushanth Rao

[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
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 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



Thomas van Kampen

"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"

these lyrics have gotten me through so much you have no idea



Google User

Lyrics

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
Mmm

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...

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...

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
Mmm

Lie-la-lie...



John LaStrada

@Roman K - I'm not going to dispute what the highly respected drummer Hal Blaine said Randy, but I question it. What I stated came from people at the recording session. Maybe they're telling a story. But between Blaine's manner of doing it & the simplicity of dropping a small plugged in amp to get the reverberation on the beat -- which does make that sound distinctly, I would let readers & musicians decide what is more believable.


Blaine's explanation sounds far-fetched. I played drums at one time. It just doesn't sound that easy to accomplish nor would it meet success without repetitive attempts. The recording engineer would have an easier time controlling a drop of a small amp in the studio. No drums. That's wooden sticks, brushes or mallets on skins. I doubt Hal used those to get that effect...elevator or not. This is a distinct electronic sound with reverb. Probably the idea of an engineer with producer Roy Halee.


What I say is based on what I read in a music industry magazine in 1969. As a drummer, I was impressed with that effort. Quite frankly I believe that over Hal's hit & miss explanation. The little amp only needed to be dropped once & recorded -- the engineer with or without Blaine probably inserted it later wherever it was required.


Think about it: This was recorded in 1968 -- using an expensive first-class studio (Columbia in Nashville) by an exceptional producer (Roy Halee). I find it hard to believe they needed to resort to running microphone lines out to the hallway & elevators to get their effects. Joe Meek in a cheap studio did that with The Honeycombs ("Have I The Right"), by going under the stairs in the hall to get the banging on "Have I The Right," but that was years before & not with the budget S&G had. I know Blaine's story is on Wikipedia (not always reliable) but that isn't what I read in detail back in 1968.


I'm not saying what you say isn't true -- I could be wrong. Someone changed their story. But as a drummer -- it just sounds like they took the long way around the barn to do something relatively simple. Like dropping a small plugged in amp to get the logical reverberation on the beat. Believe what you wish.



All comments from YouTube:

GodofWarChuka

He could dislike these guys? Epic tunes👍

Martin W

I can't believe 10K people hate "The Boxer." That sons is quintessential Simon and Garfunkel.

BlqrgdeBlargdeBlarg

@Sash I feel bad for you if you can't appreciate this.

Choose Life

He could?

Howard Cox

@Rosa Glez Martin Paul Simon Graceland

Ralph Leo

@GodofWarChuka yes but, what’s with your name 🤷🏽‍♂️

48 More Replies...

Kay O.

My Grandfather would play this song in his car when picking me up from school or taking me to the library when I was a young girl. We would blast it and sing along to the chorus. I sadly lost him last night and this song has brought nothing but comfort. I will always think of him when I hear this.

Thefunksoulbro

He is still with you in spirit. And he left you, the precious of this. And many more, I am sure. Blessings.

Fredy Ercilla

❤️❤️💔💔💔

Carrie Hamilton

Aww. Wish I knew your Grandfather. Wish I knew you. Music saved my life during the physical and sexual abuse in my younger yrs.

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