Country blues
Come all you good time people While I have money to spend Tomorrow might be a monday And I neither have a dollar of friend When I have plenty of money My freinds were all standing around Just as soon as my pocket book was empty Not a friend on earth to be found I wrote my woman a letter I told her I's in jail She wrote me back an answer Saying honey I must come to go your bail All around this old jailhouse is haunted Forty dollars won't pay my fine Corn whiskey has surrounded my bady Pretty womans a-troublin' my mind For if you don't quit your drinkin' Sometime you'll be just like me A workin' out your livin' In the penitentiary When I'm dead and buried And my pale face turned to the sun You can come around and mourn little woman And think of what you've done