The House of the Rising Sun
A traditional English ballad
Georgia Turner and Bert Martin
There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun.
It’s been the ruin of many a poor girl,
and me, O God, for one.
If I had listened what Mamma said,
I’d ’a’ been at home today.
Being so young and foolish, poor boy,
let a rambler lead me astray.
Go tell my baby sister
never do like I have done
to shun that house in New Orleans
they call the Rising Sun.
My mother she’s a tailor;
she sold those new blue jeans.
My sweetheart, he’s a drunkard, Lord, Lord,
drinks down in New Orleans.
The only thing a drunkard needs
is a suitcase and a trunk.
The only time he’s satisfied
is when he’s on a drunk.
Fills his glasses to the brim,
passes them around
only pleasure he gets out of life
is hoboin’ from town to town.
One foot is on the platform
and the other one on the train.
I’m going back to New Orleans
to wear that ball and chain.
Going back to New Orleans,
my race is almost run.
Going back to spend the rest of my days
beneath that Rising Sun.
The House of the Rising Sun
An American folk song
«The Animals» version
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 bluejeans,
My father was a gamblin man,
Down in New Orleans.
Now the only thing a gambler needs,
Is a suitcase and trunk,
And the only time he’s satisfied,
Is when he’s on a drunk.
Oh mother tell your children,
Not to do what I have done:
To spend your lifes in sin and misery,
In the house of the Rising Sun.
Well i got one foot on the platform,
The other foot on the train,
I’m going back to New Orleans,
To wear that ball and chain.
Well, 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.
1964
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