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,
she sold 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 that he'll be satisfied
Is when he's all 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, there is a house in New Orleans
They call the Risin' Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy.
And God, I know I'm one.