When I was a rounder
I stopped in New Orleans
A great long way from my home
I didn’t know nobody that I seen

I was walking along the street one day
I didn’t mean no harm
A police comes up and he seized me
And they began to make their law

Ain’t it hard, ain’t it hard
Just looking through the bars
A police comes up and he seized me
And they began to make their law

They seen I was a stranger
They took out on my trail
Soon they had me surrounded
And carried me to the city jail

Ain’t it hard, ain’t it hard
Just looking through the bars
Soon they had me surrounded
And carried me to the city jail

When I got in jail I
Didn’t know what to do
There was no one I knew
I could carry my troubles to

Ain’t it hard, ain’t it hard
Just looking through the bars
There was no one I knew
I could carry my troubles to

I had to write my dear old mother
It makes her lonesome and blue
Son you needn’t a worry
Your mother’s comin’ after you

Ain’t it grand, ain’t it grand
I don’t need a deacon’s hand
Son you needn’t a worry
Your mother’s comin’ after you