Tradtional
There is a house in New Orleans
they call the Risin’ Sun
It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy
and God, I know I’m one
My mother was a tailor
She sewed my new blue jeans
My father was a gamblin’ man
Down in New Orleans
The only thing a gambler needs
is a suitcase and a trunk
and the only time that he’s 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 risin’ sun
I’ve got one foot on the platform
the other foot on the train
I’m goin’ back to New Orleans
to wear that ball and chain
He fills his glasses up to the brim
And hell pass the cards around
And the only pleasure he gets out of life
is ramblin’ from town to town
I’m a-goin’ back to New Orleans
My race is almost run
I’m goin back to end my life
Down in the risin’ sun
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