Im going down this road feeling bad Bad lucks all Ive ever had Going down this road feeling bad, Lord, Lord And I aint gonna be treated this away Got me way down in jail on my knees This old jailer he sure is hard to please Feed me on corn, bread and peas, Lord, Lord And I aint gonna be treated this away Sweet mama, wont buy me no shoes Lord, shes left me with these lonesome jailhouse blues My sweet mama wont buy me no shoes, Lord, Lord And I aint gonna be treated this away And these twodollar shoes hurt my feet The jailer wont give me enough to eat These twodollar shoes they hurt my feet, Lord, Lord And I aint gonna be treated this away Im going where the climate suits my clothes Lord, Im going where these chilly winds never blow Im going where the climate suits my clothes, Lord, Lord And I aint gonna be treated this away Yes, Im going down the road feeling bad, Lord, Lord Lord, Im going down the road feeling bad Bad luck is all Ive ever had And I aint gonna be treated this away
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