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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,