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, he was a gamblin' man
way down in New Orleans.
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, he was a gamblin' man
way down in New Orleans.
Oh, mother, tell your children
not to do what I have done.
Don't spend your life in sheer misery
in the House of the Rising Sun.
Don't spend your life
in the House of the Rising Sun.
Don't, don't, don't spend your life
in the House of the Rising Sun.