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, cuz' I'm one
My mother, was a tailor
She sewed my new blue jeans
My father was a gambling man
Down in New Orleans
Now the only thing a gambler needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk
And the only time that 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
In the House of the Rising Sun
