Lay down the song you strum, And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings No voice can hope to hum.

It's always disappointing when people decide for one reason or another that they don't like your work anymore, but you can't try to please people, because then you're just going to be doing - you'll never live it down, y'know it'll always be dogging you around - you might be being a fake about the whole thing.

I kinda live where I find myself.

I never saw myself as a folk singer.

The song was there before me, before I came along. I just sorta came down and just sorta took it down with a pencil, but it was there before I came around.

There is a house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun, and it's been the ruin of many a poor boy and God I know I'm one.

Seven shots ring out like the ocean's pounding roar, there's seven people dead on a South Dakota farm.