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 ain’t’ a-gonna be treated this a-way 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 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