Oh, it's going down the road feeling bad

Bad luck's all I've ever had

Going down the road feeling bad, Lord, Lord

And I aint' a-gonna be treated this a-way



Got me way down in jail on my knees

This old jailer he sure is hrd to please

Feed me corn, bread and peas, Lord, Lord

And I ain't gonna be treated this a-way



(break)



Sweet mama, won't you buy me no shoes

Lord, she's left me with these lonesome jailhouse blues

My sweet mama won't buy me no shoes, Lord, Lord

And I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way



And these two-dollar shoes they hurt my feet

The jailer won't gi'me enough to eat

Lord, these two-dollar shoes they hurt my feet, Lord, Lord

And I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way



(break)



I'm going where the climate suits my clothes

Lord, I'm going where these chilly winds never blow (hmmhmm)

Going where the climate suits my clothes, Lord, Lord

And I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way



Yes, I'm going down the road feeling bad, Lord, Lord

Lord, I'm going down this road feeling bad

Bad luck is all I've ever had (it sure is)

And I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way