Poor Boy Walking Blues

I'm a land-sick traveller I tend to get around
 Spent twenty years in prison breaking rocks upon the ground
 Suddenly a free man making up a wasted time
 Been headed back to New Orleans in a greyhound bus flyin'
 I didn't have a dime
 I walked into a restaurant lookin' for a job
 The chef said "we could use somebody to clean up all the slobs"
 Its seven bucks an hour, minus tax and no paid break
 I said "you must be kidding man, that's less than a slave make!"
 They don't pay you anymore!
 Oh the poor boy blues
 He can't get no relief
 He keeps the shoes on his feet
 To keep his feet off the street
 Oh the poor boy blues
 He can't get no relief
 He keeps the shoes on his feet
 To keep his feet off the street
 I passed by a music hall, you know I play a tune
 The director there asked me just where I go to school
 I told her I could fool around, but schoolin' I've got none
 They asked me to recite Beethoven's seventh, but I was still drunk
 I thought that one was dumb
 I saw three little birds they were sitting in a tree
 Outside the front porch of the big fraternity
 I asked them "hey brothers think you can spare a beer"
 They spit in my face and asked "well who do you know here?"
 Poor boy don't know nobody!
 Oh the poor boy blues
 He can't get no relief
 He keeps the shoes on his feet
 To keep his feet off the street
 Oh the poor boy blues
 He can't get no relief
 He keeps the shoes on his feet
 To keep his feet off the street
 Oh the poor boy blues
 He can't get no relief
 He keeps the shoes on his feet
 To keep his feet off the street
 Oh the poor boy blues
 He can't get no relief
 He don't step on the cracks
 To keep the goddamn police off his back, if you know what I mean