There is a house in New Orleans, They call the rising sun. And it's been the ruin of many a por boy, And God, I know I'm one. My mother was a tailor She sewed my new blue jeans My father he was a gamblin' man Way down in New Orleans. Oh, mother, tell your children Not to do what I have done Don`t spend your lives in sin and misery In the house of the rising sun. Don't spend your life In the house of the rising sun Oh, no don't spend your life In the house of the rising sun.