There is a house in New Orleans They call the rising sun And it's been the ruin of many a poor soul And, Lord, my father's one
My mother, she's a tailor She sews those new blue jeans To keep my gambling father drunk Deep down in New Orleans
It's a happy happy happy happy fun day day
Like a bird flying over forest fire My father feels the heat beneath his wings And in debt he leaves for another town Where he gambles and, drunk, he still drinks
My mother hides from pleasure And thinks of Father on her knees Lifted in the arms of God Away from New Orleans
Happy happy happy happy fun day day Happy happy happy happy fun day dayTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
