There is a house in New Orleans,
|
they call The Rising Sun.
|
And it's been the ruin of manys a poor boy,
|
and God, I know I'm one.
|
|
My mother was a tailores
|
she sewed my new blue jeans
|
an' my father was a gamblin' man
|
down in New Orleans.
|
|
Now the only thing a gambler needs
|
is a suitcase and a trunk.
|
And the only time that he's satisfied
|
is when he's down and drunk.
|
|
So mothers tell, tell your children
|
not to do what I have done
|
not to spend their lives in sin and misery
|
in the House of the Rising sun.
|
|
I've got one foot on the platform
|
and another one on the train.
|
I'm going home to New Orleans
|
to wear that ball and chain.
|
|
There is a house in New Orleans,
|
they call The Rising Sun.
|
And it's been the ruin of manys a poor boy,
|
and God, I know I'm one.
|
|
poor, poor boy
|
poor, poor boy
|
poor, poor boy
|
poor, poor boy
|
poor, poor boy
|
poor, poor boy
|
poor, poor boy
|
poor, poor boy
|
poor, poor boy
|
poor, poor boy
|
|
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|
The House Of the Rising Sun
|
| Sinead O'Connor |
