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,
Sewed my new blue jeans.
My father was a gamblin' man.
Way down in New Orleans.

Now the only thing a gambler needs is
A suitcase and a trunk.
And the only time he'll be satisfied
Is when he's on a drunk.

Oh mother pray, go tell your children,
Not to do don뭪 do what I뭭e done.
To spend their lives in sin and misery
In the house of the Rising Sun.

Well I've got one foot on the platform
And the other뭩 on the train
I'm going back down to New Orleans
To wear that ball a