Abby Anderson House Of The Rising Sun
Here is a house in Western York they call the rising sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
My God, I hear them come
My mother was a tailor, she sowed these new blue sleeves
Our father's were legends of men
Whom ruled like western straits
I'm going back to Western York
Where hearts beat loud as one
To the house, the pain, and the warrior's game
To the men who raised the sun
There is a house in Western York they call the rising sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
My God, I hear them come