Down the Road
Doc Watson and David Holt Lyrics
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Bad luck's all I've ever had
Going down the road feeling bad, Lord, Lord
And I ain't' a-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 corn, bread and peas, Lord, Lord
Sweet mama, won't you 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 a-gonna be treated this a-way
And these two-dollar shoes they hurt my feet
The jailer won't gimme enough to eat
Lord, these two-dollar shoes they hurt my feet, Lord, Lord
And I ain't a-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 (hm hm)
Going where the climate suits my clothes, Lord, Lord
And I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way
Yes, I'm going down the road feeling bad, Lord, Lord
Lord, I'm going down this road feeling bad
Bad luck is all I've ever had (it sure is)
And I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way
In "Down the Road," the singer expresses the frustration of being stuck in jail while facing bad luck in life. He sings about feeling mistreated and misunderstood by authority figures, such as the jailer who won't provide enough food and the mother who won't buy him new shoes. The song's melancholy tone emphasizes the singer's feelings of hopelessness.
The lyrics are simple and straightforward, but they convey a range of emotions that are universal and timeless. The song is a classic example of the blues genre, which often deals with themes of hardship and suffering. The melody is also catchy and memorable, making it a popular choice for covers and adaptations.
Line by Line Meaning
Oh, it's going down the road feeling bad
Traveling through life with a heavy heart
Bad luck's all I've ever had
Unfortunate circumstances have plagued me my entire life
Going down the road feeling bad, Lord, Lord
Continuing on with life's hardships despite the pain
And I ain't' a-gonna be treated this a-way
I refuse to be mistreated by anyone
Got me way down in jail on my knees
Locked up and feeling helpless
This old jailer he sure is hard to please
The jailer is making things even more difficult for me
Feed me corn, bread and peas, Lord, Lord
The bare minimum to survive is what they provide
And I ain't gonna be treated this a-way
I won't stand for this mistreatment any longer
Sweet mama, won't you buy me no shoes
Asking for basic necessities from one's loved ones
Lord, she's left me with these lonesome jailhouse blues
The sadness and loneliness of being locked up
My sweet mama won't buy me no shoes, Lord, Lord
Feeling abandoned and alone by those one loves
And I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way
Resilient in the face of adversity
And these two-dollar shoes they hurt my feet
The cheapness of the shoes results in physical pain and discomfort
The jailer won't gimme enough to eat
Even basic sustenance is withheld and rationed
Lord, these two-dollar shoes they hurt my feet, Lord, Lord
Repeating the physical pain caused by lack of proper footwear
And I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way
Still refusing to be mistreated
I'm going where the climate suits my clothes
Finding a place where one can be comfortable in their own skin
Lord, I'm going where these chilly winds never blow (hm hm)
Escaping from the cold and harsh realities of life
Going where the climate suits my clothes, Lord, Lord
Still searching for a place to belong
And I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way
Determined to find a better life for oneself
Yes, I'm going down the road feeling bad, Lord, Lord
Acknowledging the pain, but still moving forward
Lord, I'm going down this road feeling bad
Feeling beaten down by life's hardships
Bad luck is all I've ever had (it sure is)
Reflecting on the seemingly unending string of misfortunes in life
And I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way
Standing up for oneself and refusing to be mistreated any longer
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Written by: DELANEY BRAMLETT
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind