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House Of The Rising Sun - text

There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor soul
And lord, my father's one

My mother, she's a tailor
She sews those new blue jeans
To keep my gambling father drunk
Deep down in New Orleans


It's a happy, happy, happy, happy, fun day, day


Like a bird flying over a forest fire
My father feels the heat beneath his wings
And in debt he leaves for another town
Where he gambles and, drunk, he still drinks

My mother hides from pleasure
And thinks of Father on her knees
Lifted in the arms of God
Away from New Orleans


Happy, happy, happy, happy, fun day, day
Happy, happy, happy, happy, fun day, day

Text přidala Teva

Text opravila Maggie127

Video přidala Teva


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