House Of The Rising Sun

There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boys
And God, I know, I'm one.

My mother was a tailor,
She sewed my new blue jeans.
My father was a gambling man
Way down in New Orleans.

Now the only thing a gambler needs
Is a suitcase and a drunk;
And the only time that he's satisfied
Is when he's all a drunk.

Now mother, tell your children
Not to do what I have done,
To spend their lives in (serious) misery
In the house of the rising sun.

With one foot on the platform,
And the other foot on the train
I'm goin' back to New Orleans
To wear my ball and chain.