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Clarence Ashley
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House of the Rising Sun
There are a house in New Orleans They call the Rising Sun Where many poor boys to destruction has gone And me, oh God, are one
Just fill a glass up to the brim Let the drinks go merrily around We'll drink to the life of a rounder, poor boy Who goes from town to town
All in this world does a rambler want Is a suitcase and a trunk The only time he's satisfied Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com Is when he's on a drunk
Now boys don't believe what a young girl tells you Let her eyes be blue or brown Unless she's on some scaffold high Sayin' 'Boys, I can't come down'
I'm going there to New Orleans For my race is almost run To spend the rest of my wicked life Beneath the rising sun
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