B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
B.W. Stevenson
My feet, they're so weary
And my legs can't seem to stand
I've been headed down this broad highway
Trying to make myself a man
Left home when I was seventeen
Had my first love the next year
But she proved to be unfaithful
So I have cried my tears
I can't understand why
I left my home that day
I only know that I'm going back
But I can't pay my way
Now my feet, they're so weary
And my legs can't seem to stand
I've been headed down this broad highway
Trying to make myself a man
Ain't got the money for a cup of coffee
I ain't got money for no food
Last town that I travelled through
The people there said I were no good
Now my feet, they're so weary, lord
And my legs can't seem to stand
Maybe the next town I'm headed for
They'll try and understand
My Feet Are So Weary was written by B.W. Stevenson.
My Feet Are So Weary was produced by David Kershenbaum.