House of the Rising Sun

There is a house down in New Orleans They call the 'Rising Sun' It's been the ruin of many a poor boy And me, oh god I'm one Mama, she worked for a tailor man She sewed all my new blue jeans And my daddy was a gambling man In the town of old New Orleans (Shuffle them cards, Richard) The only thing that a rounder ever needs Is a suitcase or a trunk And the only time he's ever satisfied Is when he's on a drug Boys fill up the glasses Right to the brim Let the drinks flow merrily round Well, drink to the health Of the round poor boy Who rambles from town to town Now fellows don't believe What a bad woman tells you For her eyes be blue or brown Unless she's standing on some old scaffold high Saying, "Fellows, they won't let me come down" Go tell my youngest brother Not to do the awful things that I've done And to shine that old house down in New Orleans That they call the rising sun Soon they'll take me back, down to New Orleans To face all the crimes that I've done Then they'll tie me to an old ball and chain Until my earthly race is run