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,
on down in New Orleans.
The only thing a gambler needs,
is a suitcase and trunk.
And the only time, he'll be satisfied,
is when he's all 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.
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.