There is a house in New Orleans   They call it the Rising Sun   And it's been the ruin of many a poor girl   And me, oh God, I'm one      If I had only listened of what my mama said   I'd be at home today   But bein' so young and foolish, my Lord   Let a gambler lead me astray      Now, my mother is a tailor   She sews those new blue jeans   And my sweetheart is a drunkard, Lord   Drinks down in New Orleans      Now the only thing a drunken man needs   Is a suitcase and a trunk   And the only time he's satisfied   Lord, is when he's on the run      Somebody, go get my baby sister   Tell her to do what I have done   But shun that house in New Orleans   They call it the Rising Sun      Well, I'm goin' back to New Orleans   My race is almost run   Yes, I'm goin' back to spend my life   Beneath, beneath, the rising