There is a house in New Orleans They call the Rising Sun And it's been the ruin, of many a poor boy And God, I know, cuz' I'm one
My mother, was a tailor She sewed my new blue jeans My father was a gambling man Down in New Orleans
Now the only thing a gambler needs Is a suitcase and a trunk And the only time that he's satisfied Is when, he's on, a drunk
Oh mother, tell your children Not to do what I have done Spend your lives in sin and misery In the House of the Rising Sun In the House of the Rising SunTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
