Come all you good time people
While I have money to spend
Tomorrow might be a Monday
And I neither have a dollar or friend.


When I had plenty of money
My friends 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 body
Pretty women's a' troublin' my mind.


For if you don't quit your drinkin'
Sometime you'll be just like me
A workin' out your lovin'
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.