Blues with out Blame

I ask my baby for a nickel

She gave me  a twenty dollar bill

I ask her for a drink of whiskey

And she gave me a liquor still

Whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah

What can a poor boy do?

Ain't it hard, ain't it hard

When you have to live the blues?

I call my baby on the telephone

She said, "Come on over, Stevie, I'm all alone"

I said, "I can't get my car started, mama"

Whoa, yeah

What can a poor boy do

When he has to live the blues?

And while my baby's makin' it with my best friend

I know I'm being used, yeah, yeah, yeah

Lord have mercy

Lord have mercy on me

Lord have mercy

Lord have mercy on me, yeah

I'm tryin' to find my baby

Won't somebody please, yeah, yeah

Won't somebody please bring her home to me?

Thank you

Thank you