(G. Turner/ B. Martin)
There is a house in New Orleans, they call the rising sun| And it‘s been the ruin of many poor boys, and God, I know I‘m one | My mother was a tailor, she sewed my new blue jeans | My father was a gamblin‘ man, down in New Orleans | Oh mothers tell your children, not to do what I have done | Spend their life in sin and misery in the house of rising sun
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