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