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Ian Tyson
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Old House
Way out there in the hills
Where the sage grows high
On the pass where the wind blows dry
Stands the house in the hills
The Old House in the hills
All alone, 90 summers
Have blackened her walls
90 autumns have silenced the halls
Of the house in the hills
Empty now, gone to darkness
The candle's glow
And the echos of mandolins
Died within her long ago
But there was a time
In the days when the herds came through
In the days when the land was new
Cattle was king
She was the jewel of the range
Like a jewel
Her nights shining on and on
Full of laughter and song
The old house in the hills
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Dry years came
Hard times came
Bad things were done
They say a child was hurt
A man was hung
At the house in the hills
Those high sagebrush hills
And they left her there
Empty now, almost gone
Only the wind now to sing her song
In those high sagebrush hills
It's times I swear
Autumn days as I ride by there
I can still hear those mandolins
Soft crying deep within
The old house in the hills
A calf bawls in the fading light
Prairie rolls away to meet the night
From the house in the hills
The old house in the hills
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