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 gambling man,
 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, tell your children,
 Not to do what I have done
 Spend your lives 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.
 
 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.