Traditional
There is a house in New Orleans
Call it the Rising Sun
And it`s been the ruin
Of many a poor girl
And me, oh Lord, I`m one
If I`d listened what my mama said
Be at home today
Bein` so young
And foolish, my Lord
Let a gambler lead me astray
My mother was a tailor
Sews new blue jeans
My sweetheart`s is a drunkarad, Lord
Drinks down in New Orleans
Go tell my baby sister
Never do what I have done
Shun that house in New Orleans
They call it the Rising Sun
Goin` back to New Orleans
Race is almost run
Goin` back to spend my life
Beneath, beneath, beneath, oh Lord
Beneath, oh now
Beneath the rising, rising sun
Now, now
You come on bye