House of the Risin Sun

There is a house in New Orleans
You call the Rising Sun
It’s been the ruin of many-a poor soul
And me, Oh God I’m one
If I had listened to what momma said
Being home today
Being so young and foolish poor girl
Let a gambler lead me astray
My mother she’s a tailor
Sows those blue, blue jeans
My sweatheart he is a drunkard Lord God
Drinks down in New Orleans
He fills his glasses to the brim
Passes them around
The only pleasure that he gets out of live
Is a-hoboin' from town to town
The only thing this drunkard needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk
Only time that he’s half satisfied
Is when he’s on a drunk
Go and tell my baby sister
Never do like I have done
Shun that house down in New Orleans
That they call the Rising Sun
With one foot on the platform
One foot on the train
I’m going back down to New Orleans
To wear my ball and my chain
My live is allmost over
My race is allmost done
Going back down to New Orleans
To that house of the Rising Sun
RS