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No Strangers Here

by SixMileBridge

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1.
john barleycorn, trad. there were three farmers in the north and as they were passing by they swore an oath a mighty oath that john barleycorn must die one of them says we’ll drown him and the other says hang him high a whiff of the stick of the barley grain and a-beggin we will die with me fal-er-a-lund-a-me too-ra-lunda-me whack-fal-diddle-di-ay they put poor barley into the sack on that cold and rainy day they carried him off to the garden field they buried him in the clay the frost and the snow began to melt and the dew began to fall and barley grain rolled up he said that he’d soon surprise them all bein in the summer season with the harvest comin on he stands up in the field with a beard like any man the reaper came to wield his sickle he used me barbarously he cut me by the middle so small he cut me above the knee then next came master binder and he looked on me with a frown for in the middle there was a thistle which bowled his courage down the farmer came with his pitchfork he pierced me through the heart like a thief and robber or highwaymen they tied me to the cart the thresher came with his big flail he nearly broke me bones would grieve the heart of any man just to hear me sighs and moans the next thing that they done to me was to drown me in the well they left me there for a day and a half or until i began to swell the next thing that they done to me was they dried me in the kiln they used me ten times worse than that when they ground me in the mill the used me in the kitchen and the used me in the hall they used me up in the parlor among the ladies all the barley grain is a comical grain he makes men sigh and moan for when they take a glass of me they forget their wives at home the drunkard he is a dirty man and he uses me worst of all he takes me up in his dirty mouth and he stumbles against the wall
2.
if you’re travelling to the north country fair where the wind blows heavy on the borderline remember me to the one who lives there for she once was a true love of mine see for me that her hair’s hangin long that her crimson curls fall down her breast see for me that her hair’s hangin long for that’s the way I remember her best please see for me she has a cloak so warm that it wraps around her up around her chin please see for me she has a cloak so warm to keep her from the howling wind please see for me that her room is dry that the peat is plenty and the fire is bright please see for me that her room is dry to keep her from the freezing night
3.
4.
Marching 06:20
marching g. larkbey daddy can you tell me what are they marching for are they marching into battle are they marching into war they are marching for their freedom they are marching for their right they’re marching for the things they won’t give up without a fight they’re marching for their freedom to speak and to hear they’re marching for the things in life that we all hold so dear daddy can you tell me why are they marching now why do their banners say we are bloody but unbowed they’ve faced the baton charges and they’ve nursed the ones who’ve bled they know the sound of horses hooves and truncheons to the head their leaders have been taken from their homes at dead of night but they’ll not give up the battle no they’ll not give up the fight daddy now they’re marching they’re marching by once more and some of them are weeping as they pass on by our door the papers said an accident and one said suicide it seems that no one will admit just how the prisoner died well i’ve seen a lot of life though i’m only ten times four but a man who beat himself to death i’ve never seen before daddy tell me why you talk in whispers on the phone and why won’t you let me go and play out on my own hush my child, don’t let them hear you talk in such a way for they’ve passed a law to stop you from disputing what they say and someday in the future when we can’t take anymore we’ll march again and next time we’ll be marching into war
5.
shoals of herring e. maccoll it was on a fair and a pleasant day out of yarmouth harbor I was fairing as a cabin boy on a sailing vessel for to go and hunt the shoals of herring o the work was hard and the hours were long and the treatment there it took some bearing there was little kindness and the kicks were many as we hunted for the shoals of herring CH with our nets and gear we’re fairing on the wild and wasteful ocean it’s there on the deep that we harvest and reap our bread and hunt the bonnie shoals of herring o we finished the swarth and the broken bank i was cook and i’d a quarter sharing and i used to sleep standing on my feet and i’d dream about the shoals of herring o we left the homeground in the month of june and to canny shiels we soon were bearing with a hundred cran of the silver darlings that we’d taken from the shoals of herring now you’re up on deck you’re a fisherman you can swear and show a manly bearing take your turn on watch with the other fellow as you’re following the shoals of herring in the stormy seas and the living gales just to earn your daily bread you’re daring from the dover straits to the faroe islands you’re following the shoals of herring o I earned my keep and I paid my way and I earned the gear that I was wearing sailed a million miles caught ten million fishes we were sailing after shoals of herring
6.
the crack was ninety in the isle of man weren't we the rare oul' stock? spent the evenin gettin locked in the ace of hearts where the high stools were engaging over the butt bridge down by the dock the boat she sailed at five oclock hurry boys said whack or before we're there we'll all be back carry him if you can the crack was ninety in the isle of man before we reached the alexander base the ding dong we did surely raise in the bar of the ship we had great sport as the boat she sailed out of the port landed up in the douglas head enquired for a vacant bed the dining room we soon got shown by a decent woman up the road lads ate it if you can the crack was ninety in the isle of man next morning we went for a ramble round viewed the sights of douglas town then we went for a mighty session in a pub they call dick darbies we must have been drunk by half-past three to sober up we went swimmin in the sea back to the digs for the spruce up and while waitin for the fry we all drew up our plan the crack was ninety in the isle of man that night we went to the texas bar came back down by horse and car met big jim and all went in to drink some wine in yates’ the liverpool judies it was said were all to be found in the douglas head mcshane was there in his suit and shirt them foreign girls he was tryin to flirt sayin here girls i'm your man the crack was ninety in the isle of man whacker fancied his good looks on an isle of man woman he was struck but a liverpool lad was by her side and he throwin the jar into her whacker thought he'd take a chance he asked the quare one* out to dance around the floor they stepped it out and to whack it was no bother everythin was goin to plan the crack was ninety in the isle of man the isle of man woman fancied whack your man stood there till his mates came back whack! they all whacked into whack and whack was whacked out on his back the police force arrived as well banjoed a couple of them as well landed up in the douglas jail until the dublin boat did sail deported every man the crack was ninety in the isle of man * quare one - woman
7.
8.
Tiger Bay 04:55
tiger bay l. spira he worked his daily fourteen hours below and rarely saw the sunset or sunrise and he watched his little family try to grow but he could see the sorrow in their eyes they sold off almost everything they owned from the little house they’d rented from the mine said good bye to all the friends they’d ever know and sailed away in nineteen twenty nine they came a long long way from tiger bay on the wild wide sea to be free free free they huddled up on deck against the cold smiling through the tears they tried to hide and they wondered what the future years would hold as they headed for toronto on the tide well the steel works gives employment that’s a start but what they found was worse than what they’d left but with the taste of freedom burning in their hearts september found them headed for the west at calgary they saw the winter out and the icy northern snows blew thick and wild and late one night he heard his lady shout that the time had come to have their precious child well he did his best to save the seed he’d sown and soon he heard the babie’s gentle cries but the new life she had given cost her own and he saw the love light dying in her eyes the preachers words made such a mournful sound as they laid her body in the frozen clay and the dreams they shared were buried in the ground in the foothills of the rockies far away
9.
as i came in by turra market turra market for to fee i fell in wi' a farmer chiel the barnyards of delgaty lintin addie toorin addie lintin addie toorin ee lintin lowrin lowrin lowrin the barnyards of delgaty he promised me the ae best pair that e’er i set my e'en upon when i gaed to the barnyards there was naething there but skin and bone the auld black horse sat on its rump the auld white mare lay on her wime and for all that i could hup and crack they wouldna rise at yokin' time when i gae to the kirk on sunday many's the bonnie lass i see sitting by her faither's side and winkin o'er the pews at me i can drink and no be drunk i can fecht and no be slain i can lie wi another man's lass and aye be welcome to my ain noo my candle is brunt oot my snotter's fairly on the wane sae fare ye weel ye barnyards ye'll never catch me here again
10.
Cowboy Song 05:08
cowboy song p. lynott & b. downey i am just a cowboy lonesome on the trail starry night, campfire light coyote calls and the howling winds wail so i’ll let out to the old sundown i am just a cowboy lonesome on the trail lord I’m just looking for a certain female nights we spent together riding on the range looking back now it all seems so strange chorus: roll me over and turn me around let me spinning till i hit the ground roll me over and let me go riding free with the buffalo i was stuck in texas i did not know her name oh these southern girls they all seem the same down below the border in a town in mexico i got a job bustin broncs with the rodeo chorus roll me over and let me go and i’ll move my fingers up and down up and down it’s alright amigo just let me go just let me go chorus
11.
brand new legacy m. drennon davey lives out on the plain he knows the silence in his home hides secrets and stories of people and places long long forgotten long left behind oh grandmother where did my family come from remember for me what you’ve heard my darling it’s over it’s worn out and gone even as she recalls her own grandmothers words go now leave now leave me right here i can’t take no more of this lingering go and find a new life forget all this strife go find yourself a brand new legacy davey goes to church and prays in a faith just eighty years old it’s a feeling he’s had since he was a lad that something was his but never was told oh who was that man they call patrick the saint who taught all his people to see did he speak the truth then did he touch my own kin did he leave me his own legacy he wonders why the songs of ireland strike deep in his heart and his blood he won’t know his clan fought against poverty wrought by the landlords and kings throughout his homeland when the chieftain was hunted and fled for his life his true love had bid him goodbye knowing she’d never see him or speak of him more and his story would die with the darkening sky
12.
is there for honest poverty that hangs his head and a’ that the coward slave we pass him by we dare be poor for a’ that for a’ that and a’ that our toils obscure for a’ that their rank is but their guinea stamp the man’s the gold for a’ that for tho on homely fare we dine wear hodden* gray and a’ that give fools their silks and knaves their wine a man’s a man for a’ that for a’ that and a’ that their tinsel show an a’ that the honest man tho e’re so poor is king of men for a’ that you see yon birkie* called a lord wha’ struts and stares and a’ that tho hundreds worship at his word, he’s but a fool for a’ that for a’ that and a’ that his ribband star and a’ that the man of independent mind he looks and laughs at a’ that a prince can make a belted knight a marquis, duke and a’ that but an honest man’s above his might good faith! he must not fall, that for a’ that and a’ that their dignities and a’ that the pith* of sense and pride of work are higher rank than a’ that then let us pray that come it may and come it will for a’ that that sense o’ worth o’er all the earth shall bear the gree* for a’ that for a’ that and a’ that it’s comin’ yet, for a’ that that man to man the world o’er shall brothers be, for a’ that! *Old Scots terms: hodden: roughest, poor quality wool birkie: young lad pith: core, substance bear the gree: have first priority

about

Sean and Frances had much to do with the direction of this album. Their partnership in arranging and composition had become such a force in our dynamic, it only made sense to turn them loose in the studio and see what happened. Also with the addition of Frances' baby brother Tim on drums, the synergy was a thing to behold.

We had just moved from Houston to Upstate New York, met the wonderful engineer Lisa Sturz (now Mandeville) and made a heaping mess of her recording studio for drums and guitar tracks. Vocals and other instrumentation recorded at out new digs, The Lace House.

credits

released July 11, 2000

Produced by Drennon/Johansson
Recorded by Lisa Sturz and Anders Johansson
Mixed by Anders Johansson
Mastered at Terra Nova, Austin
Graphics Jay Ford, cover Frances Cunningham

Frances plays a Davey Stuart cittern and a Fylde mandolin
Sean plays a flute by Terry McGee and whistles by Glenn Schultz
Maggie’s fiddle made by Dave Stronge
Tim uses Britton snare drums

Enormous gratitude to
Paul Domotor, George and Gigi Kidd, The Magee family, John and Peggy Sweeney, Dr. Josh, Harry O., Tim MacGlashen, David Daumit

Loving thanks to
The Newtons, The Cunninghams, Elaine and Lee Scott, The Binghams, The Keatings, Caroline and Norma, Mona and Jennifer Johansson, Owen and Anjelica, John McCusker, Alan Reid, Turlach Boylan

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Maggie Drennon New York, New York

Maggie Drennon is a premiere voice in Celtic singing, a long standing influence in folk music. She was a founding member of Ceili's Muse in 1989, and SixMileBridge in 1997

Now, with a solo performance that is meaningful yet lighthearted, she is deeply devoted to sharing Celtic traditions with American audiences.

Most importantly she brings us the soaring voice that will inspire your heart!
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