There is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God I know I'm one

Now the only thing a gambler needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk
And the only time he's satisfied
Is when he's on a drunk

Oh mother, tell your children
Not to do what I have done
Spend your lives in sin and misery
In the house of the Rising Sun


Para los hijos de la anarquía

Burdon, vozarrón