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 plane.
I`m going back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain