House of the Rising Sun Peter Hollens

There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
I know, I know I'm one

My mother was a tailor
She sewed my new blue jeans
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 is satisfied
Is when he's on a trump

Oh mothers tell your children (Children, don't you do)
Not to do what I have done
Don't spend your lives in sin and misery
In the House of the Rising Sun

I've got one foot on the platform
The other on the train
I'm goin' back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain

I'm goin' back to New Orleans
Our race is almost run
I'm goin' back to spend the night
In the House of the Rising Sun