SING-ALONG
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The House of the Rising Sun (Traditional) There is a house in New Orleans, they call the "Rising Sun", it's been the ruin of many a poor boy, And me, oh lord, I'm one. My mother is a tailor, she sews those new blue jeans, My father he's a gambling man, Drinks down in New Orleans. My father is a gambler, he goes from town to town, The only time, he's satisfied, is when He's on a trump. So mothers tell your children, not to do what I have done, Shun that house in New Orleans They call the "Rising Sun". One foot on the platform, the other's on the train, I'm going back to New Orleans, To wear that ball and chain. Going back to New Orleans, my race is almost run, I'm going to spend the rest of my life, Beneath that "Rising Sun".

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