Doc Watson - Going down this road feeling bad

O^Dh, it's going down the road feeling bad B^Gad luck's all I've ever ha^Dd G^Going down the road feeling b^Dad, Lord, Lord And I a^Ain't' a-gonna be treated this a-w^Day

^DGot me way down in jail on my knees This old jai^Gler he sure is hrd to pl^Dease F^Geed me on corn, bread an^Dd peas, Lord, Lord And I a^Ain't gonna be treated this a-w^Day

Sw^Deet mama, won't you buy me no shoes Lord, s^Ghe's left me with these lonesome jailhouse bl^Dues My sweet m^Gama won't buy me no sh^Does, Lord, Lord And I a^Ain't a-gonna be treated this a-w^Day

^DAnd these two-dollar shoes they hurt my feet T^Ghe jailer won't gi'me enough to e^Dat Lord, these t^Gwo-dollar shoes they hurt my f^Deet, Lord, Lord And I a^Ain't a-gonna be treated this a-w^Day

I'm going where the climate suits my cl^Dothes Lord, I^G'm going where these chilly winds never b^Dlow (hmmhmm) Go^Ging where the climate suits my clo^Dthes, Lord, Lord And I a^Ain't a-gonna be treated this a-^Dway

Yes, I'm go^Ging down the road feeling b^Dad, Lord, Lord Lord, I'm going down this road feeling bad B^Gad luck is all I've ever h^Dad (it sure is) And I a^Ain't a-gonna be treated this a-w^Day