| There is a house in New Orleans
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| They call the Rising Sun
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| It has been the ruin of many a poor girl
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| And me, oh, God, was one My mother was a tailor, She sewed them new blue jeans.
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| My lover he was a gambler, Oh Lord
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| Gambled down in New Orleans. |
| My husband was a gambling man
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| He went from town to town; |
| And the only time he was satisfied
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| Was when he drank his liquor down. |
| Now the only thing a gambling man needs
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| Is a suitcase and a trunk; |
| And the only time he’s ever satisfied
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| I when he’s on a drunk Go and tell my baby sister
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| Never do like I have done, But to shun that house in New Orleans
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| That they call the Rising Sun With one foot on the platform, And one foot on
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| the train
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| I’m goin' back to New Orleans
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| To wear the ball and chain. |
| I’m going back to New Orleans
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| My race is almost run; |
| I’m going back to spend the rest of my life
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| Beneath that Rising Sun. |