House of the Rising Sun

There is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun

And it's been the ruin of many poor souls

And lord, my father is the one

My mother, she's a tailor

She sews those blue blue jeans

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 yields for another tower

Where he gambles and drunk he still drinks

My mother hides from pleasure

Sees the father on her knees

Left it in the arms of God

Away from New Orleans

Happy, happy, happy, happy, fun day, day

Happy, happy, happy, happy, fun day, day