Poor Boy Lyrics

Paul Butterfield Blues Band Poor Boy

Well I'm a poor boy, long way from home.
Well I'm a poor boy, long way
from home.
No spending money in my pocket, no spare meat on my bone.

Now, people ask me, "what does a poor boy do?"
Now, people ask
me, "what does a poor boy do?"
Poor boy sews patches on his clothes,
Stuffs newspaper in his shoes.

I'm goin' back to Chicago, man,
that's where I'm from.
I'm goin' back to Chicago, man, that's where I'm
from.
I got so many friends in Chicago,
Place just can't do me no
harm.