American Stranger


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SKU: 1997 Category:


A native of the Missouri
Ozarks – known for its
rich musical traditions – Julie Henigan has long
had a deep affinity for American folk music;
while several lengthy stays in England and
Ireland have enhanced her innate feel for British
and Celtic music. A singer of remarkable depth
and skill, Henigan placed first in women’s
traditional singing in Rothbury, England in 1987.
An accomplished instrumentalist – on guitar,
banjo, dulcimer, and fiddle – she creates
accompaniments that are both subtle and arresting.
American Stranger, Henigan’s first CD release,
includes rare versions of traditional ballads
“John Randolph” and “Pretty Polly;” “Thug Mé
Rúide,” an Irish Gaelic song performed a capella
in sean-nós style; four original tunes in the
tradition; “The Cowboy’s Girl” and “Blue-Eyed
Boy” from the Southern Mountains; and “The Hare’s
Dream,” an exquisite rendition of an Ulster
folksong from the point of view of the prey.

1. American Stranger
2. The Cowboy’s Girl
3. John Randolph
4. Hanover
5. Hoban’s Hill
6. Adieu My Lovely Nancy
7. Jessica’s Polka/The Procrastination Polka
8. Blue-Eyed Boy/Clinch Mountain Backstep
9. Thug Me Ruide
10. The Hare’s Dream
11. The Tettenhall Allotment
12. Green Grows the Laurel
13. The Streets of Derry
14. Pretty Polly
15. Going Across the Sea
16. Farewell Song


On the twentieth of January and in the seventieth year
The morning being beautiful, charming, bright and clear
My sleep being disturbed by dreams as I lay in my den
I dreamed of heathery mountains, high rock and low glen

With me hark, tally ho!
Hark over yon brow
She’s over, says the huntsman
And yonder she’ll go

As I sat in my form for to view the plains round
I being trembling and shaking for fear of the hounds
But seeing no danger appearing to me
I quickly ran up to the top of the Sligue

They hunted me up and they hunted me down
At the loop of the burn they did me surround
Then up come the huntsman just to end all the strife
He says, “Leave the hare down and give her play for her life”

Bad luck to all sportsmen, to Bowman and Ringwood
They sprinkled the plain with my innocent blood
They let Reynard go free, that cunning old fox
That ate up all the chickens, fat hens and game cocks

And now I’m for dying and I know not the crime
To the value of sixpence I ne’er wronged mankind
I never was given for to rob or to steal
All the harm e’er I’ve done was crop the heads of green kale


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