House of the Rising Sun

House of the Rising Sun - Clarence Ashley

There are a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun

Where many poor boys to destruction has gone

And me oh God for one

Just fill the glass up to the brim

Let the drinks go merrily around

We'll drink to the life of a rounder poor boy

Who goes from town to town

All in this world does a rambler want

Is a suitcase and a trunk

The only time he's satisfied

Is when he's on a drunk

Now boys don't believe what a young girl tells you

Let her eyes be blue or brown

Unless she's on some scaffold high

Saying Boys I can't come down

I'm going back to New Orleans

For my race is almost run

To spend the rest of my wicked life

Beneath the Rising Sun