the house of the rising sun

There is a house in New Orleans,
They call the rising sun.
Has been the ruin of many poor girls,
And me, oh Lord I 'm one.

My mother she 's a tailor.
She sews those new blue jeans.
My husband he 's a gambalin' man,
Drinks down in New Orleans.

My husband he 's a gambler.
He goes from town to town.
The only time he 's satisfied,
Is when he drinks his liquor down.

Go tell my baby sister,
Never do like I have done!
Shun that house in New Orleans,
They call the rising sun.

One foot on the platform,
The other 's on the train.
I 'm going down to New Orleans,
To wear that ball and chain.

Going back to New Orleans,
My race is almost run.
I 'm going to spend the rest of my life
Beneath that rising sun.