THE HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN
(old Louisiana folk song; learned at folksinging parties in the 1960s)
There is a house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun
If I had listened to what mama said, I'd be at home today
My mother is a tailor, she sews those new blue jeans.
The only thing a drunkard needs is a suitcase and a trunk
He'll fill his glasses to the brim, he passes them around
Go tell my baby sister, Never do like I have done.
It's one foot on the platform, and the other one on the train,
I'm goin' back to New Orleans, my race is almost run
(from miriam berg's folksong collection)
It's been the ruin of many a poor girl and I, oh Lord, am one.
But being so young and foolish, poor girl, I let a gambler lead me astray.
My sweetheart is a drunkard, Lord, drinks down in New Orleans.
The only time he's satisfied is when he's on a drunk.
And the only pleasure he gets out of life is bumming from town to town.
To shun that house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun.
I'm gonig back to New Orleans to wear the ball and chain.
I'm goin' back to spend my days beneath that Rising Sun.