There is a h ouse in N ew Orleans,
They call the R ising Sun,
And it's been the r uin of m any a poor boy,
And God I know I'm one.
My mother w as a t ailor,
She sewed my n ew blue jeans,
My father w as a g amblin man,
Down in New Orleans.
Am E／Am E／
Now the only t hing a g ambler needs,
Is a suitcase a nd trunk,
And the only t ime he's satisfied,
Is when he's on drug.
Fm G＃／B♭ C＃／Fm C／Fm G＃7／B♭ C＃／
Oh mother tell your childr en,
Not to do what I have done:
To spend your l ifes in s in and misery,
In the house of the Rising Sun.
Well i got one foot o n the p latform,
The other foot on the train,
I'm going b ack to N ew Orleans,
To wear that ball and chain.
Well, there is a h ouse in N ew Orleans,
They call the R ising Sun,
And it's been the r uin of m any a poor boy,
And god I know I'm one.
