There is a house in Western York
They call the rising sun
It's been the ruin of many a poor boy
My God, I hear, them come
My mother was a tailor,
She sewed these new, blue seams
Our fathers were, legends of men,
Who moved like Western streams
And I'm going back to Western York
Where the hearts beat loud as one
To the house, the pain, and the warrior's game
Intensity breaks, mystery and acapella return
For the men, who raise the sun
OOOOOHHHHH
There is a house in Western York
They call the rising sun
It's been the ruin of many a poor boy
My God, I hear, them come