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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 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 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 Aus Songtexte Mania