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 platform,
and the other on the train. There takeing me back