Lyrics Woody Guthrie – The House Of The Rising Sun

There is a house in New Orleans
You call the Rising Sun
It’s been the ruin of many a poor soul
And me, oh God, I’m one

If I’d listened to what mama said
I’d be at home today
Being so young and foolish, poor girl
I let a gambler lead me astray

My mother she’s a tailor
Sews those new blue jeans
My sweetheart, he’s a drunkard, Lord God
He drinks down in New Orleans

He fills his glasses to the brim
Passes them around
The only pleasure that he gets out of life
Is a-hoboin’ from town to town

The only thing a drunkard needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk
The only time that he’s half satisfied
Is when he’s on a drunk

Go and tell my baby sister
Never do like I have done
Shun that house down in New Orleans
That they call that Rising Sun

It’s one foot on the platform
One foot on the train
I’m going back down to New Orleans
To wear my ball and my chain

My life is almost over
My race is almost run