There is a house in New Orleans,
They call the "Rising Sun",
It's been the ruin of many a poor girl,
And me, I know, I'm one.
My mother is a tailor,
She sews those new blue jeans,
my husbend he's a gambling man,
drinks down in New Orleans.
My husbend in a gambler,
He goes from town to town,
The only time, he's satisfied, is when
He drinks his liquor down,
his liquor down!
Go tell my baby sister
Never do like I have done,
Shun that house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun!
One foot's on the platform,
The other on the train,
I'm going back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain,
that ball and chain!
Going back to New Orleans,
My race is almost run,
I'm going to spend the rest of my life
Beneath, Beneath that Rising Sun,
Beneath that Rising Sun,
that Rising Sun.
