This week’s installment focuses on another American contribution to the genre, in the sense that “Henry Lee,” or “Love Henry,” is an Americanized take on an old ballad called “Young Hunting” (Child Ballad No. 68).
The ballad tells the tale of a man, Young Hunting, who, returning to town on horseback, is persuaded by a woman – who he may or may not know, depending on the version – to stop. He does so only momentarily. In some versions he leans down from his horse to give the woman a kiss (or two), in some versions he comes in and has a drink (or two), and in some versions he makes it all the way to her bedroom. Ultimately, however, he rebuffs her. Recalling “Fair Ellender,” he tells her that he is in love with another. Incensed, the woman stabs him and disposes of his body, usually by dragging it into a river or a well.
In all versions, there is a little tell-tale bird who witnesses this awful deed. Just as she lured the young man down from his horse, the woman speaks to the bird and tries to lure it down from its tree. But the bird refuses, telling her it knows she is a murderer. The woman admits this, warning the bird that if she had a bow and arrow she would hunt it down and pierce its heart, too. Murder and witness tampering, then.
After its initial popularity, “Young Hunting” reportedly fell significantly out of favor until it was picked up by American recording artists, taking on a whole new life as “Henry Lee” or “Love Henry.” What interests me is how the song was shaped so very differently in the hands of these artists – from folksy blues tune, to girl anthem (or something approaching a girl anthem), to stand-up comedy, to full blown torch song.
One of the earliest American recordings was made in 1929 by Dick Justice. Included as the opening track in Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music, Justice’s version retains key similarities to early versions of “Young Hunting,” keeping much of the old story:
Judy Henske’s version (1963) departs from Justice’s recording both lyrically and stylistically. To my ears it also introduces a bit of the “girl anthem” ethos of Henske’s time, as heard in the video clip at the top of this post. (I hear this especially during the dialogue between the murdering woman and the tell-tale bird, when Henske’s voice gains a gravelly, defiant edge.)
Incongruously, during Henske’s live performances she also turned Love Henry’s story into a somewhat raunchy stand-up comedy routine, which she used to introduce her performance of the song, as heard in this recording:
Astonishing. After a few more decades of terrific covers by numerous artists, Nick Cave enters in 1995 with his cover, recorded as a duet with PJ Harvey. This cover is also astonishing, but for different reasons. Although lyrically a return to Dick Justice’s recording, Cave’s version makes some significant compositional and stylistic departures. These departures – and the incredible chemistry between Cave and Harvey, clear in the recording as well as the legendary video – render his version a gorgeous torch song:
I love this version, although I can’t help but note that Cave makes a significant cut of his own: even as he introduces the little tell-tale bird into an original chorus, he removes the dialogue between the murdering woman and the bird entirely. That’s quite a cut. Is the duet the replacement? At any rate, this move makes the murdering woman a bit less sinister to me and opens up room in the song for some serious torchy-ness. Overall, the little tell-tale bird seems to me to be the key element to this particular murder ballad, and maybe it tells us something about the genre as a whole. After all, as noted, the bird is the original witness to the murder — the original “singer of the song” and murder balladeer.
