Heaven light a way for a fallen Let me ease the pain from my mother But he feels the deception in his head Down by the lake of Mississippi A boy was born poor and abandoned And as he walk you could hear him yearning For a home and he prays And by the

Does it hurt Every time you walk in a room Does it feel like work Keepin' them country boys off of you Tell me, tell me Are you tired of runnin' Through my mind's Poor boy neighborhood All, tell me does it hurt

Bring a nickel; tap your feet. Willy and the Poorboys are playin' Down on the corner, out in the street Down on the corner, out in the street, Early in the evenin' just about supper time, Over by the courthouse they're starting to unwind. Four kids on

They call the Rising Sun And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy In the house of the rising sun There is a house in Sin City And God, I know I'm one My mother was a tailor She sewed my new blue jeans My father was a gamblin' man Down in Sin City

Can you believe me when I say, there's nothing I like better, Than just to sit here and talk with you. Although I'll rant and I'll rave about one thing and another The beauty of it is, hope you'll agree, though I'm a poor boy, I can still be happy, As

When this war is over It will be a better day But it won't bring back Those poor boys in their graves Ain't no sense in no action Killin' people all the time When it happens on the street We call that a crime Man, he can get along

Bring a nickel; tap your feet. Willy and the Poorboys are playin' Down on the corner, out in the street Down on the corner, out in the street, Early in the evenin' just about supper time, Over by the courthouse they're starting to unwind. Four kids on

Bring a nickel; tap your feet. Willy and the Poorboys are playin' Down on the corner, out in the street Down on the corner, out in the street, Early in the evenin' just about supper time, Over by the courthouse they're starting to unwind. Four kids on

Does it hurt Every time you walk in a room Does it feel like work Keepin' them country boys off of you Tell me, tell me Are you tired of runnin' Through my mind's Poor boy neighborhood All, tell me does it hurt

They call the Rising Sun And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy And God I know I'm one There is a house in New Orleans My mother was a tailor Sewed my new blue jeans My father was a gamblin' man Down in New Orleans Now the only thing a gambler needs