Going Down The Road Feeling Bad

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Oh, it's going down the road feeling
 bad
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Bad luck's all I've ever had
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Going down the road feeling bad, 
Lord, Lord
       A                           
And I ain't' a-gonna be treated 
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this a-way

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Got me way down in jail on my knees
            G                      
This old jailer he sure is hard to 
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please
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Feed me on corn, bread and peas, 
Lord, Lord
       A                         
And I ain't gonna be treated this 
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a-way

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Sweet mama, won't you buy me no 
shoes
       G                      
Lord, she's left me with these 
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lonesome jailhouse blues
          G                     D
My sweet mama won't buy me no shoes,
 Lord, Lord
       A                           
And I ain't a-gonna be treated this
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 a-way

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And these two-dollar shoes they hurt
 my feet
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The jailer won't gi'me enough to eat
             G                   
Lord, these two-dollar shoes they 
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hurt my feet, Lord, Lord
       A                           
And I ain't a-gonna be treated this
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 a-way

I'm going where the climate suits my
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 clothes
       G                           
Lord, I'm going where these chilly 
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winds never blow (hmmhmm)
  G                             
Going where the climate suits my 
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clothes, Lord, Lord
       A                           
And I ain't a-gonna be treated this
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 a-way

           G                       
Yes, I'm going down the road 
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feeling bad, Lord, Lord
Lord, I'm going down this road 
feeling bad
 G                         D
Bad luck is all I've ever had (it 
sure is)
       A                           
And I ain't a-gonna be treated this
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 a-way