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There is a house in New OrleansThey call the Risin' Sun.Been the ruin of a many a poor gal,And me, oh, God, I'm one!If I'd a-listened what mama saidI'd a-been at home today.Being so young and foolish, poor boy,I let a gambler lead me astray.My mother, she's a tailor,She sewed those new blue jeans.My sweetheart, he's a drunkard, Lord,Drinks down in New Orleans.The only thing a drunkard needsIs a suitcase and a trunk;The only time he's satisfiedIs when he's on a drunk.Fills his glasses to the brim,Passes them around,Letras de cancionesThe only pleasure that he gets out of lifeIs a-hoboin' from town to town.Go tell my baby sisterNever do like I have done,To shun that house in the New OrleansThat they call the Risin' Sun!One foot's on the platform,The other on the train,I'm going back to New OrleansTo wear that ball and chain.Going back to New Orleans,My time is almost done;Going back to spend my lifeBeneath that Rising Sun.
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House of the Rising Sun as written by Eric Victor Burdon, Dp,
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., BUG MUSIC, EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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From Letras Mania