Pleading For The Blues - Bertha Chippie Hill/Louis Armstrong

I'm not crying pleading at your feet

I'm not crying pleading at your feet

Sent for you baby you treat me kind and sweet

Baby I'd rather work than to play

Baby I'd rather work than to play

But if you treat me mean I'll have to run away

I left my mother why can't I leave you

I left my mother why can't I leave you

I will leave anybody that treats me like you do