House OF The Rising Sun

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 gambling 
man down in New Orleans
 
And the only things a gambler needs is 
a suitcase and a trunk and the only 
time he's satisfied is when he's all a-drunk.
                                                              
                   
  
 
I've got one foot on the platform the 
other foot on the train I'm going back
 to New Orleans to wear the ball and chain.
 
So mothers, tell your children not to 
do what I have done spend your life in 
sin and misery in the House of the Rising Sun.
 
 
 
What kind of bird can't fly?
A jailbird...what else!
 
 
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