There is a house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy and, God, I know I’m one
My mother was a tailor. She sewed me new blue jeans.
My father was a gambling man down in New Orleans.
Now the only thing a gambler needs is a suitcase and trunk
And the only time he’s satisfied is when he’s on a drunk.
Oh, Mother, tell your children not to do what I have done,
Spend your lives in sin and misery in the House of the Rising Sun.
Well, I got one foot on the platform, the other foot on the train.
I’m going back to New Orleans to wear that ball and chain.
Well, there is a house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy and, God, I know I’m one.
