Going Down the Road Feeling Bad

I'm going down this road feeling bad: Bad luck's all I've ever had; Going down this road feeling bad, Lord, Lord, And I ain't 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 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 gonna be treated this a-way. And these two-dollar shoes hurt my feet - The jailer won't give me enough to eat, These two-dollar shoes they hurt my feet, Lord, Lord, And I ain't 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 I'm going where the climate suits my clothes, Lord, Lord, And I ain't gonna be treated this a-way. Yes, I'm going down the road feeling bad, Lord, Lord, Lord, I'm going down the road feeling bad, Bad luck is all I've ever had, And I ain't gonna be treated this a-way.