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 gamblin' man
Down in New Orleans

In the house of The Rising Sun

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

Now the only thing a gambler needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk
And the only time he's satisfied
Is when he's on a trump

In the house of The Rising Sun
In the house of The Rising Sun