(B.B. King & Joe Josea)

Well, my bad luck is falling, falling down like rain
Bad luck is falling, falling down like rain
No matter what I do, seems like my luck won't never change

I felt kinda lucky
My luck was running slow
The last hand I caught four aces
And the police broke down the door
I said, Lord, Lord, what can a poor boy do?
Well, ain't it bad when you can't make no money
Seems like all the bad breaks will come to you

Yeah, I got home this morning
She was looking kinda funny
She said "Don't come in, daddy
Daddy, unless you got some money"
And I said, Lord, Lord, what can a poor boy do?
Well, ain't it tough when you can't make no money
Without your woman turning her back on you

Well now, I asked my woman for some dinner
She looked at me like a fool
She said, "I'm playing checkers, daddy
And I think it's your turn to move"
I said, oh, Lord, what can a poor boy do?
Yes, it's bad when you can't make no money
And your woman turns her back on you