ill sing a song for arstotzka
There is a house in Arstotzka 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, sewed my new blue jeans,
My father was a gambling man down in Arstotzka.
Now the only thing a gambler needs is a suitcase and a trunk
And the only time he’s satisfied is when he’s on a drunk.
Oh mothers tell your children not to do what I have done,
Spend your life in sin and misery in the House of the Rising Sun.
Well, I’ve got one foot on the platform, the other foot on the train
And I’m going back to Arstotzka to wear that ball and chain.
Well, there is a house in Arstotzka they call the Rising Sun
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy and God, I know I’m one
