- cifra
There is a house in New Orleans
They call The Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor girls
And God, I know I'm one
My mother was a tailor
She sowed my new blue jeans
My sweetheart he was a gambler, oh, Lord
Down in New Orleans
Oh, mother, tell my baby sister
Not to do what I have done
But shun that house in New Orleans
They call The Rising Sun
Is my one foot on the platform
The other is on the train
I'm going back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain
