There is a house in New Orleans they call the 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 gamblin' man down in New Orleans.
Oh, mother, tell your children not to do what I have done.
Spend your lives in sin and misery in the House of the Rising Sun.