House of the Rising Sun - Nina Simone, Al Shackman, Chris White

There is a house in New Orleans

They call it the Rising Sun

And it’s been the ruin of many a poor girl

And me, oh God, I’m one

If I had only listened of what my mama said

I’d be at home today

But bein' so young and foolish, my Lord

Let a gambler lead me astray

Now, my mother is a tailor

She sews those new blue jeans

And my sweetheart is a drunkard, Lord

Drinks down in New Orleans

Is a suitcase and a trunk

And the only time he’s satisfied

Lord, is when he’s on the run

Somebody, go get my baby sister

Tell her to do what I have done

But shun that house in New Orleans

They call it the Rising Sun

Well, I’m goin' back to New Orleans

My race is almost run

Yes, I’m goin' back to spend my life

Beneath, beneath, the rising