House of the Rising Sun Songtext

von Doc Watson

There is a house down in new orleans
They call the rising sun
Its been the ruin of many a poor boys
And me oh god Im one

Mother she worked for a tailor man
She sewed all my new Blue jeans
And my daddy was a gambling man
In the town of old new orleans

The only thing that a rounder ever needs
Is a suitcase or a trunk

And the only time he's ever satisfied
Is when he's on a drug.

Boys fill up the glasses
Right to the brim
Let the drinks flow merrily round

Well, drink to the health
Of the round poor boy
Who travels from town to town

Now fellows don't believe
What a bad woman tells you
For her eyes be blue or brown
Unless you stand an old some old

Scaffold high
Some fellows they won't let me come down

Go tell my youngest brother
Not to do the awful things
That I've done
And to shine that old house
Down in new orleans
That they call the rising sun

Soon they'll take me back
Down to New Orleans
To face all the crimes
That I've done
Then they'll tie me to an bowling chain
Until my earthly race is run.