Rising Sun Blues

E B E E A E C E They are a house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun. A Am E B Where many poor boys to destruction has gone, and me, oh, E E B E God, for one. E A C Just fill the glass up to the brim, let the drinks go merrily E around. A C E B We?ll drink to the life of a rounder, poor boy, who goes from E E B E town to town. Em E A E A C B E All in this world does a rambler want, is a suitcase and a trunk. A Am E B E E B E The only time he?s satisfied, is when he's on a drunk. E A E A Now, boys don't believe what a young girl tells you, let her eyes E be blue or brown. A C A E B Unless she's on some scaffold high, saying, 'Boys, I can't come E E B E Dbm E down.' E Em E A E A C B E I?m going back, back to New Orleans, for my race is almost run.. A D Dbm E B E to spend the rest of my wicked life, beneath the Rising Sun. E B E Dbm E