There’s a house in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun, and it's been the ruin of many a poor girl, and Lord, I know I'm one.

My mama was a tailor, she sewed my new Sunday dress, and my daddy was a gamblin' man down in New Orleans.

Now the only thing she’s clinging to is a suitcase and her trust, and the only time she feels a spark is when love’s left her in the dust.

Oh mama, warn your daughters of the road that I’ve been on,

for heartbreak and misery await in that cursed Rising Sun.

I got one foot on the platform, the other ridin’ on the pain,

Headin’ back to Baton Rouge to let him wreck my heart again.

Oh mama, I keep chasin’ boys who leave me cold and full of shame— Still crawlin’ back to shackle up in that cursed Rising Sun.

There’s a house in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun, and it's been the ruin of many a poor girl, and Lord, I know I'm one.