House of the Rising Lute

dark traditional folk ballad, minor key, renaissance lute as sole lead instrument, slow and steady fingerpicking, deep resonant strings, raw and haunted male vocal, minimal arrangement, no percussion, brooding atmosphere, tragic storytelling, intimate close-mic recording, old tavern / New Orleans folk mood without modern production

V4.5-ALL

[Verse 1] There is a house in New Orleans They call the Rising Lyute And it’s been the ruin of many a poor soul Dear God, I know I was one [Verse 2] My mother was a seamstress She stitched my worn-out jeans And my father was a restless man Way down in New Orleans [Verse 3] And the only thing a player needs Is a melody and truth And the only time he’s satisfied Is when he holds his lyute [Verse 4] Oh mother, tell your children Not to play the way I’ve done To lose your nights to strings and sorrow In the house of the rising lyute [Verse 5] I’ve got one hand on the fingerboard The other shakes with pain And I’m going back to New Orleans To play that tune again [Verse 6] There is a house in New Orleans They call the Rising Lyute And it’s been the ruin of many a poor soul Dear God, I know I was one Dear God, I know I was the one

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