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.

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've got one foot on the plane.

I'm going back to New Orleans

To wear that ball and chain