My mother, she was a tailor
Sewed these new blue-jeans,
My father was a gamblin' man,
Way down in New Orleans.
My mother, she would look at me,
She-said, Son, you've got a long road ahead.
Son, some may roll and make you crazy,
But don't forget these words I said.
And don't forget what your name is,
And know what the game is,
From the north coast to the south coast,
From country to country,
Mind to mind,
Generation to generation
From time to time,
And to sniff across your mind...
To go downtown,
And to hang around,
The,
House-Of the ri-ising-sun...
Mother was, a tailor,
sewed these new blue-jeans,
Father was a gamblin' man, yea yea,
Way down, way down, in New Orleans.
And the only thing a gambling-man needs,
Is some cash, ooh lord, and a trunk,
And the only time he's satisfied, ya ya,
Is when he's on some form-of-drug.
Ya-aah, board and bought, oh no,
To where, I - do-belong,
I'm wandering back,
To earn my pays, in the House,
They call, the Rising sun.
Mother tell your baby children, yea yea,
Don't do the things that I've done
Spend your life in sin and misery,
In the House, they call, the Rising Sun.
ohhh-ohhhh-ohhhh-ohhhh!
House, of the Ri-sing, Su-unnnnnnnnnn
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