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There is a house in New Orleans,
They call it 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
She sewed my new blue jeans
My father was a gambl-ing man
Down in New Orleans.
And the only thing a ga-mbler needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk.
And the only time he is satisfied
Is when he’s on a drunk.
So mother tell your chil – dren
Not to do what I have done
Spend your lives in sin and misery
In the House of a Rising sun.
Well I’ve got one foot on the platform
The other foot on the train.
I’m going back to New Or – leans
To wear that ball and chain.
There is a house in New Orleans,
They call it Rising Sun.