There is a house down in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of a many poor girl
And me, oh God, for one
Oh mothers, tell your children
Not to do the things I've done
But to shun that house down in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
Well the only thing that a rounder needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk
And the only time he's ever satisfied
Is when he's on a drunk
So fill the gla**es to the brim
Let the drinks flow merrily around
And we'll drink to the health of a rounder, poor boy
Who goes from town to town
Well one foot's on the platform
And the other one's on the train
I'm a-goin' back, back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain
Yeah I'm going back, back to New Orleans
For my race is nearly run
Gonna spend the rest of my wicked life
Beneath the rising sun
There is a house down in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of a many poor girl
And me, oh God, for one
And me, oh God, for one