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.