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                                D
And I ain't' a-gonna be treated this a-way

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

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

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

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

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