(The Boxer)
|
|
If I'd been born a street away, another star ascending
|
I'd have been a fighter, a boxer in the ring
|
And I salute the boxer if he lose or if he win
|
Not the cigar-ash, splashed fat men
|
Who sit around the ring.
|
|
I want water in the bottle not brandy in the glass
|
Bruised and battered maybe but a fighter to the last
|
So I salute the boxer if he lose or if he win
|
Not the cigar-ash splashed fat men
|
Who sit around the ring.
|
|
And I have watched the fighters since I was just a kid
|
From their struggle through the ghettos to their championship bids
|
And it ain't just for the money that a guy gets cut and bruised
|
Or to please the ringside fat men
|
And to keep them all amused.
|
|
Chorus
|
|
No boxer started out rich and I hate when they complain
|
They're calling it blood money they talk of damage to the brain
|
But the poor do not want charity they only want their pride
|
Better go down fighting than accept the back seat ride.
|
|
Chorus
|
|
I'm gonna miss Muhammed when he takes his final bow
|
May he go out with his fist high and ignore the screaming crowd,
|
Ignore the compliments of fat men who behind their cigars hid
|
And keep the sense of pride he gave to every ghetto kid.
|
|
-----------------
|
Another Star Ascending
|
Ralph McTell |