There is a house in New Orleans, 
They call the "Rising Sun", 
It's been [bad word] of many a poor boy, 
And God, I know, I'm one. 

My mother was a tailor, 
She sewed those new blue jeans, 
my father he's a gambling man, 
drinks down in New Orleans. 

Now the only thing a gambler needs, 
Is a suitcase and a drink, 
The only time, you keep him satisfied, is when 
He's all [bad word]  

Oh, mother, tell your children 
Not to do what I have done - 
Spend your lives in sin and misery 
In the House of Rising Sun 

One foot on the platform, 
The other's on the train, 
I'm going back to New Orleans, 
to wear that ball and chain. 

Yes there is a house in New Orleans 
they call "the rising sun" 
It's been [bad word] of many a poor boy, 
And God, I know, I'm one.