HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN

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There is a house in New Orleans,

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They call the Rising Sun,

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And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy,

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And God I know I'm one.

 

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My mother was a tailor,

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She sewed my new blue jeans,

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My father was a gamblin man,

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Down in New Orleans.

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Now the only thing a gambler needs,

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Is a suitcase and trunk,

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And the only time he's satisfied,

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Is when he's all a drunk.

 

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Oh mother tell your children,

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Not to do what I have done:

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To spend your lives in sin and misery,

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In the house of the Rising Sun.

 

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Well  I’ve got one foot on the platform,

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The other foot on the train,

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I'm going back to New Orleans,

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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.