There is a house in New Orleans
You call the Rising Sun
It's been the ruin of many a poor girl
And me, oh God, I'm one

If I'd listened to what mama said
I'd be back home today
But I was so young and foolish, poor girl
I let a gambler lead me astray

My mother is a tailor
She sews those new blue jeans
My sweetheart is a drunkard, Lord God
He drinks down in New Orleans

The only thing a drunkard needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk
The only time that he's half satisfied
Is when he's on a drunk

He fills his glasses to the brim
And passes them around
The only pleasure that he gets out of life
Is a-hoboing from town to town

Go tell my baby sister
Not to do like I have done
Tell her to shun that house down in the New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
It got one foot on the platform
The other's on the train
I'm going back down to New Orleans
Beneath that ball and my chain

My life is almost over
My race is almost run
I'm going back down to spend the rest of my days
Beneath that rising sun