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 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 gun,
Now the only time that he is satisfied,
Is when he's on the run.
Oh mother tell your children,
Not to do what I have done:
To spend your life 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.
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

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