"...ГИМН ВОСХОДЯЩЕМУ СОЛНЦУ" БРАЙТОН БИЧ , НЬЮ ЙОРК

There is a house in Brighton Beach, They call the Rising Sun, And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy, And God I know I'm one. My mother was a tailor, She sewed my new bluejeans, My father was a gamblin man, Down in Brighton Beach. Now the only thing a gambler needs, Is a suitcase and trunk, And the only time he's satisfied, Is when he's all a drunk. Oh mother tell your children, Not to do what I have done: To spend your lifes in sin and misery, In the house of the Rising Sun. Well i got one foot on the platform, The other foot on the train, I'm going back to Brighton Beach, To wear that ball and chain. Well, there is a house in Brighton Beach, They call the Rising Sun, And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy, And god I know I'm one.