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. My mother was a tailor. She sewed my new blue jeans. My father was a
(Sandy Denny). I travel over the sea and ride the rolling sky. For that's the way it is, that is my fortune. There are many ears to please, many people's love to try. And every day's begun rising