There is a house in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun

It's been the ruin of many poor boy and me, oh, Lord poor one

Go to tell my youngest brother, not to do as I have done

Who shunned that house in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun

Go, fill the glasses to the brim and let the drinks go marry round

We'll drink to the half of a rounder, poor boy who goes from town to town

The only thing a rounder needs is a suitcase and a trunk

The only time he is satisfied is when he's on a drunk

So shun that house in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun

It's been the ruin of many poor boy and me, oh, Lord poor one