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"Last year I sang the 'Skid Row Flophouse.' It's kind of a rugged song about the slums of Seattle. It talks about prostitutes and pimps and everything. And I thought it was a little shady, but everybody wanted the words to it.

There's a flophouse down the street
Where the drunken bums can meet
You can get a bed for 50 cents a night
There's no sheets upon the bunks
Because they're filled with crazy funks
And the bed bugs haven't lost their appetite

I don't claim to be a musician or a singer. To me, it's the words that count in folk music. You don't listen to guitar or anything. Folklore is history."

- Paul Roseland, "The Singing Sourdough," folk song collector, Girdwood