Okay. There is a house here 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 And she sews those few pure jeans And I 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 Like a bird flying over a forest fire My father feels the heat beneath his wings And in debt he leans for another time Where he gambles and drunk, he still drinks My mother hides from pleasure And feels the fire on her knees Lifted in the arms of God away from the walls It's a happy, happy, happy, happy fun day, day Happy, happy, happy, happy fun day, day Happy, happy, happy, happy fun day, day Happy, happy, happy, happy fun day, day
