There is a house down in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
It's been the ruin of a many poor boy
And me, oh God, I'am one

Momma, she works as a tailor
She sewed my new blue jeans
And my dad was a gamblin' man
Down in New Orleans

The only thing that a rounder ever needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk
And the only time he's satisfied
Is when he's on a drunk

Then fill the glasses to the brim
Let the drinks go merrily around
We'll drink to the health of a rounder poor boy
Who goes from town to town

Now boys don't believe what a girl tells you
Though her eyes be blue or brown
Unless she's on some scaffold high
Saying: Boys, I can't come down

Go tell my youngest brother
Not to do the awful things I've done
But to shun that house down in New Orleans
That they call the Rising Sun

Soon they will take me back down to New Orleans
To face all the crimes that I have done
Than they
Until my