Latest Folklore

Major Mercer was further informed of the site of a monolith called in the district “The Sack Stone,” which he at once went to see. From his notes I gather that this is a great smoothed boulder, having one side flat and the other rounded, both with deep longitudinal glacial grooves. It stands about 9 feet 6 inches in height, is 6 feet in breadth and about 3 feet thick near the base, from which it increases to about 4 feet near the upper part.

Its position, as far as could be ascertained from the map, is about three-quarters of a mile N.E. of Creag na Criche, near the 1000-foot contour-line, and on the north side of the burn that divides Tullybeagles from Tullybelton, on the slope of the hill near the latter place. Anderson, the old keeper, said that the current tradition – doubtless, to account for the name – was that some one had brought this Sack Stone in a bag and left it there! If this is a residue of some early legend telling of the Stone being “dropped out of the apron of a witch,” it is still one more instance of the folk-lore of Standing Stones.

From ‘Report on Stone Circles in Perthshire’ by Fred Coles, in PSAS v45 (1910-11).

In the memory of men still living, two well-known weavers, named James Livingstone and James McLaren, lived in Barnkettick, at the west end of the town. Livingstone was a through wag, and McLaren was somewhat of a simpleton. Livingstone was in the habit of telling his neighbour all sorts of extravagant stories about ghosts and witches. The facility with which the latter fraternity could turn themselves into hares and scamper about was an accepted fact, which McLaren as truly believed as his Bible.

The Rocking or Cradle Stone on the brow of the Knock, behind the town, was supposed to be of Drudical [sic] origin, and for ages drew forth the fear and wonder of the natives. A belief prevailed that something valuable was buried in its foundation, and worth lifting, if it could only be got at.

The story’s told at great length. Basically, Livingstone gets a few of his mates involved, and they turn up early with snares and ‘squibs’. When the two friends start digging, “a strange unearthly sound came up the hill, and on looking round, a ball of fire was seen careering through the underwood. McLaren felt queerish and almost speechless.” But Livingstone said they were only bits of falling stars. McLaren thought otherwise, that it was something to do with the Monzie witches. When Livingstone yelled that he smelt brimstone, McLaren rushed terrified down the hillside, scaring rabbits and hares that then got caught screaming in the snares. He makes it home but Livingstone clearly doesn’t know when to stop and ties a live hare to the bed, which McLaren of course interprets as a witch.

The RCAHMS record says the Cradle Stone is a huge boulder that’s been split in two. Surely it’s called the Cradle Stone because it rocks / rocked at some point? but in a mention in PSAS (v45/1910) it says “the local story is that the Cradle Stone is where the babies came from!” Maybe that’s a kind of back-explanation with a fertility related twist?

This camp is known as Whitefield-camp, Soldier’s-fauld (now its recognized name), and Witches-neuk, said to be derived from the legend that ‘Meg o’ Meldon’ in one of her midnight flights on broom shank, or a piece of ragwort, rested on the rocks that form its northern defence.

There seems to be some confusion over the names up here. But the folklore goes with the name regardless I guess. Found in volume 10 of the Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle-upon-Tyne (1902), p50.

.. “Pepper Hill” at Weeting is said to be so called because from its poplar-crowned summit “Oliver Cromwell peppered Weeting Castle.”

From ‘Norfolk and Suffolk’ by W G Clarke (1921).

However, in a letter to the Thetford and Watton Times on 20th October 1894, it’s mentioned “I have frequently heard children say that Pepper Hill was so called because of the pepper found there.” (Perhaps some peppery plant like sorrel? I think they’d be lucky to find some actual pepper :)

Though there are surprisingly few traditions concerning the barrows, yet the curiosity they aroused in the minds of dwellers in the neighbourhood is shown by the fact that so many of them have names. That it was “a very mysterious mound” was all that I could glean from a shepherd concerning a barrow at Croxton, but he was able to inform me that it was called “Mickle Hill” (a name hitherto unrecorded)...

From ‘Norfolk and Suffolk’ by W G Clarke (1921).

Wearie Well

In a saft summer gloamin,
In yon dowie dell,
It was there we twa first met,
By Wearie’s cauld well,
We sat on the brume bench,
And look’d in the burn,
But sidelang we look’d on,
Ilk ither in turn.

The corn craik was chirmimg,
His sad eerie cry,
And the wee stars were dreaming,
Their path through the sky,
The burn babbled freely,
Its love to ilk flower,
But we heard and saw nought,
In that blessed hour.

We heard and we saw nought,
Above or around,
We felt that oor love lived,
And loathed idle sound,
I gazed on your sweet face,
Tull tears filled my e’e,
And they drapped on your wee loof -
A warlds wealth to me.

Now the winter’s snaw is fa’ing,
On bare holim and lea,
And the cauld wind is drippin,
Ilk leaf aff the tree,
But the snaw fa’s not faister,
Nor leaf disna part,
Sae sune frae the bough, as
Faith fades in your heart.

Ye’ve waled oot another,
Your bridegroom to be;
But can his heart love sae,
As mine luvit thee?
Ye’ll get biggings and maulings,
And monie braw claes;
But they a’ winna buy back,
The peace o’ past days.

Fareweel and for ever,
My first luve and laist,
May the joys be to come -
Mine lies in the past,
In sorrow and sadness,
This hears fa’s once;
But light, as thy live, may
It fleet over thee.

Motherwell
Whistle – Binkie
The Piper Of The Party.

You’ve got to feel sorry for this rock. It’s got no space. And yet, legend has it that it turns round nine times when it hears the clock strike twelve. It used to sit proudly by the road on Northgate, and Willy Bulmer used to read out the London news whilst standing on it. But Health and Safety deemed it in the way, so in the 1920s it was moved behind railings at Central House to be safely out the way.

It’s also supposed to have railway folklore links. In the 1820s Edward Pease had a horse-drawn railway that took coal to the Tees at Stockton. George Stephenson is supposed to have walked from Stockton to speak to him, to persuade him to use his new fangled steam engine. Stephenson sat on the stone to re-tie his boots, apparently.

(This information collected in a document about Northgate conservation area by Darlington Borough Council.)

It gets a mention in the Denham Tracts:

Rhyme on Bulmer Stone, Darlington.

In Darnton towne ther is a stane,
And most strange is yt to tell,
That yt turnes nine times round aboute
When yt hears ye clock strike twell.

This truly wonderful revolving stone, though by-the-by it is not singular in this property, stands in the front of some low cottages constituting Northgate House, in the street bearing the same name. It is a water-worn boulder-stone of Shap (Westmorland) granite.

The rhyme must be pretty old, as it’s from a book given to the Durham cathedral library in 1662, and it previously belonged to the church of Hutton Rudby, Yorkshire, so the Tracts tell us.

Abermarlais.

At the entrance gate of Abermarlais Park there is an interesting stone, near which, according to a tradition related to me by Mrs. De Rutzen, the Welsh Princes held a council or* war. I was also informed by people in the neighbourhood that the spot was once haunted by the ghost of a lady in white.

*sic. From ‘Folk-lore of west and mid-Wales’ by J C Davies (1911).

This message board for Llangadog
llangadog.com/messageboard1.html
has a photo of the stone and describes how it is also known as the ‘Bosworth Stone’, having been allegedly brought home from Bosworth Field by Sir Rhys Ap Thomas, as a souvenir of his side’s victory (Abermarlais was one of his homes).

Edmund Bogg says on ‘Almes Cliff’:

On the surface of the main group of rock are several basins or depressions, no doubt formed principally by Nature, as we have seen many similar amongst the rocks of Upper Wharfedale. ... An old custom of the country people was the dropping of a pin into these basins, they believing that good luck would follow this action. One of the basins is known as the Wart Well; anyone troubled with warts came here and pricked them until the blood flowed freely into the basin, and finished by dipping the hands into the water. If their faith was great enough, the warts were seen no more.

In the year 1776, a young woman of Rigton, having been disappointed by her lover, determined to commit suicide by leaping from the summit of the rocks, a distance of nearly fifty feet. A strong wind blowing from the west inflated her dress, and in her perilous descent she received very little harm. She never repeated the experiment, and lived many years after.

The scene from the top of this rock is magnificent, the silver windings of the old Wharfe passing town, village, meadow, and woodland, whilst far beyond the dale the country in many places can be seen for fifty miles around.

Sounds like a suitable tale for ‘Mythbusters’ if you ask me. Page 77 in ‘From Edenvale to the plains of York’ (1894).

The whole is left intact by the nature of its surroundings. The interior of the chamber is filled with small field stones, and no means are left to examine it; but I understand that tradition tells of ”curious things” being got in the inside at one time.

The writer simultaneously is pleased by the protection three walls meeting at the tomb have provided, yet is desperate to have all the stones removed so its “goodly appearance” can once more be seen. It’s obviously all tidied up now though. Over tidied one suspects? From a piece by Thomas Hall (with pre-tidied photos) in the Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, 5th series, v24, no.1 (1904).

Ken’s magical photos of this site must, I assume, show the renowned Holy Mountain of Croagh Patrick in the background. Apparently there’s not just a stone row here, but a stone pair, three isolated stones, a possible stone circle, some mounds and an enclosure – quite a lot going on. There’s an article about it in the Journal of the Galway Archaeological and Historical Society for 1998 (v50), by Christiaan Corlett.

[A] local story suggests that the standing stones at Killadangan are “a pagan cemetery, and that the ashes of Firbolg chiefs lie in urns beneath the boulders” (Quinn’s ‘History of Mayo, v2’, 1993). The legend appears to represent local explanations for the monuments at the site.

Perhaps the most intriguing folk-tale about the site is recorded by a local story teller, James Berry, who relates a story in which the king of Killadangan was the brother of Queen Maeve’s first husband (Horgan, ed. ‘Tales of the West of Ireland’, 1988). The name of this “great pagan king” seems to have disappeared from local tradition, whereas the name of his lazy servant, Thulera, remains in folk memory. In this story the king makes a vain attempt to force the sea and tide under his obedience. As the king awaits the incoming tide, his servant falls asleep, and the monarch is forced to fight a single-handed battle wielding his sword against the encroaching sea. Both the king and Thulera are drowned for their efforts. This story appears to explain the encroachment of the sea into the area around the standing stone monuments.

The article also suggests there is a winter solstice alignment between the stone row and the mountain, and that the axis of some of the standing stones could also be related to the mountain.

At Cryhelp, three miles on the east side of Dunlavin, is a granite rectangular stone 6 feet high. It is 1 foot wide at its base and 9 inches near the top; 1 foot 9 inches from the apex the stone is pierced through by a rectangular hole 9 inches by 4 1/4 inches and facing east and west.

[...] Locally the stone is believed to mark the grave of Prince Aralt (Harold) one of the Danish Chieftains killed in the Battle of Glenmama. If we are to take it that the valley near this district was not the site of the Glenmama Battle, then one must conclude that this stone does not mark Prince Harold’s grave. Local tradition holds that the corner where this stone stands was formerly a cemetery covered with trees and that this stone once occupied another place in the corner in the field, being removed to its present site to mark the grave of Prince Harold. Many residents state that the cemetery was known as “Crushlow Churchyard.”
The stone has certainly a tradition and, on account of the hole in it, it is of interest, but, beyond the fact that marriages were once celebrated at it, there exists no account relative to any curative or other properties being associated with this monument.

(N.B. In the adjacent field on the north side is a nettle-covered hollow. This has been opened and a passage was discovered underneath leading in a northerly direction. It is said that the passage communicates with what is apparently a destroyed mound in the northern corner of the field on the opposite side of the road. In some parts one can stand erect within it. Those who have been in the tunnel state that their clothes were covered with a fine flour like mould on exit).

So much folklore for a stone that looks essentially like a gatepost. But what do I know. Let me know if it’s not really old.

From ‘The Antiquities of the Dunlavin-Donard District (Counties of Wicklow and Kildare)’ by Patrick T. Walshe, in The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, 7th series, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Dec. 31, 1931).

The Kilgowan Long Stone

[...] The residents in the district regard this stone with awe and believe it to mark the grave of a “great man who lived long ago.” One old resident stated that the stone goes to the local stream to drink at night.

From ‘The Antiquities of the Dunlavin-Donard District (Counties of Wicklow and Kildare)’ by Patrick T. Walshe, in The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, 7th series, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Dec. 31, 1931).

Twenty-one yards north-west of the “piper” (the outer stone of the circle) are two smaller stones 10 yards apart; they seem to be the end stones of an avenue leading to the circle.

The only explanation of this remarkable monument which I could obtain in the neighbourhood was that “bag-pipe” music played by the good people or fairies was to be heard occasionally at the spot.

From ‘The Antiquities of the Dunlavin-Donard District (Counties of Wicklow and Kildare)’ by Patrick T. Walshe, in The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, 7th series, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Dec. 31, 1931).

On the summit of Brewel Hill, 2 1/2 miles S.W. of Dunlavin, encircled by a wide double entrenchment now much levelled, is a group of four large boulders of which two are granite, another is of white quartz while the fourth is of red “pudding stone.” Locally they are known as the “Piper’s Stones,” the quartz one being called the “Piper’s Chair,” from the resemblance its form bears to that of a chair.

[...] According to legend, three giants – pipers by profession – had a dispute as to which of them could throw a stone the farthest. They decided to put their strength to the test and chose Knuckadow, a tall hill about a mile and a half south of Brewel, as the position from which the “cast” was to be thrown. The stones landed on the top of Brewel hill where they remain to this day. The fourth, and smallest boulder, was thrown by a young ambitious piper who was spectator of the contest and desired to emulate his older brethren.

Legend, also relates that one of these giants had a famous greyhound which, two days after the contest, leaped from Knuckadow to Brewel, and, landing on the stones, left the imprint of its toe nails on each boulder.

From ‘The Antiquities of the Dunlavin-Donard District (Counties of Wicklow and Kildare)’ by Patrick T. Walshe, in The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, 7th series, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Dec. 31, 1931).

Broomfield Dolmen.
[...] The cover stone and supporting pillars are all of granite and are of massive proportions. It is still an imposing spectacle and must have appeared much more so when each stone held its proper position. Mrs. O’Reilly, whose father died some two years ago at a very advanced age, told me that she often heard him relate how three strong men from the old mill (near Donard) pushed the cover stone off its supports for a wager.

[...] Locally this monument is known as a “Druid’s altar,” though some believe it to be a sepulchral monument. (The belief that it was a Druid’s altar is supported by a remark made to me by a Donard resident, when I was speaking to him about this monument. The late Colonel Heighington told him that a story was once current in Donard that a religious fanatic, who had a strong antipathy to Pagan antiquities, got the cover stone thrown off its supports, thus accomplishing his one great desire, the destruction of existing remnants of pre-Christian religion.)

From ‘The Antiquities of the Dunlavin-Donard District (Counties of Wicklow and Kildare)’ by Patrick T. Walshe, in The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, 7th series, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Dec. 31, 1931).

In Kilbaylet Upper on the boundary of the Blackmoor townland, are three raths which are regarded with some superstition in the neighbourhood. (It is said that an old woman resident near the raths wandered out one night and lost her way. When found she stated that she had been to the raths and had seen people dance from one rath to the other. She gave the names of a number, all of whom were deceased at the time.)

From ‘The Antiquities of the Dunlavin-Donard District (Counties of Wicklow and Kildare)’ by Patrick T. Walshe, in The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, 7th series, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Dec. 31, 1931).

This two-tiered kerbed cairn (which could well be a passage tomb in disguise) must be feeling a bit miffed: someone’s surrounded it with conifers and blocked its one-time super and doubtless significant view – and the view up to it.

Conversations with local people have confirmed that up to 50 years ago the cairn was visited by a great many people on Crom Dubh’s Sunday or Lughnasa, the last Sunday in July. The people approached the cairn from the south-west, and after visiting the cairn, where dancing and celebrations took place, walked down the mountain to the west, following a trail that led to a standing stone. This traditional route up the mountain to the cairn was lost when the forestry plantation commenced. The location of the standing stone [...] was ascertained by the author, with the help of local youths, some 200m to the west of the cairn [...] The stone, 3.6m in height, was damaged some time ago and has broken in two.

[...] Fieldwork carried out has confirmed that a clear view of Mullyash mountain may be had from the majority of megalithic monuments in east Monaghan, and the mountain is clearly visible from Slieve Gullion in County Armagh, itself the location of a passage tomb.

[...] the Folklore Commission records that local lore connected the cairn with the burial of a nobleman’s daughter in an urn on the top of the mountain. Her father killed her after she eloped with a young prince of whom he did not approve. Ordinary mortals are able to see the gold treasure buried with her if they eat certain foods. There are also connections with Fionn MacCumhaill, who is said to have thrown a stone onto the top of Mullyash mountain from Slieve Gullion. Local legend states that the standing stone is this very stone.

From ‘A Tomb with a View’ by Sylvia Desmond, in Archaeology Ireland vol. 14 (Spring 2000).

‘The farmer then removed a stone circle nearby and paid a great price. All his cattle died of disease. Several cairns about 100 paces to the west were removed entirely.‘

McPherson’s Primitive Beliefs

(It is believed that the circle involved was Druidstones.)

I would think this is story between Bennachie and Tap O Noth Rhiannon is looking for.

‘It is easy to see how this elemental landscape has generated legends. The causeway and the fort were built by the Devil or by Sir Andrew Leslie of Balquahain as a secure rape-camp for the local girls he abducted. In reality the causeway could be early medieval or prehistoric route to the fort. The giant Jock O Bennachie lived here. Little John’s Length to the east of Craigshannoch is his bed; assuming he slept full-length he was 600ft 9183m) tall. North-west of Craigshannoch a shirt shaped surface is where he dried his clothes. The Giant threw boulders at TAP O NOTH, especially after its resident guardian stole his girlfriend Anne. Jock then met a strange woman he mistook for the Lady Anne; when they kissed he sank into an enchanted sleep beneath the mountain. Only when a certain woman finds the magical key will he be released. A man once found the key, but couldn’t turn it in the great lock. He put his hat on the key to mark the place and went to get help. When the party returned, key, lock and hat had all vanished.‘

McConnochie’s Bennachie

Not to be outdone this prophecy became legend:

‘Scotland will never be rich, be rich,
Till they find the keys of Bennachie,
They shall be found by a wife’s ae son, wi ae e’e,
Aneath a juniper tree.‘

Thomas The Rhymer

(3rd line translation “ae” means one and “wi ae e’e” is with one eye. Seems perfect english to me ye ken!)

The most important remains of prehistoric religion found in Leicestershire are probably the two monoliths known as the St. John’s Stone, or Little John’s Stone, and the Hostone, or Hellstone. The former was a pillar of sandstone, originally embedded in sand, which stood in a field near Leicester Abbey, called Johnstone Close.

At the beginning of the nineteenth century it was about 7 feet high, but by the year 1835 it had become reduced to about 3 feet. In 1874, according to the British Association’s Report, it was about 2 feet high, and it has now completely disappeared.* A drawing of the stone, made by Mr. J. Flowers in 1815, has been reproduced in Kelly’s Royal Progresses and Visits to Leicester.

A custom existed from time immemorial until last century of paying an annual visit to the St. John’s Stone on St. John’s Day, the 24th of June, when “a festival was formerly held there, a vestige of old fire or sun-worship.“** Children who played about it were careful to leave before dark, for then, it was said, the fairies came to dance there. This superstition attests the religious significance of the monolith, for fairies, all the world over, continue in popular imagination to haunt ground which has once been sacred.

*British Association Report, 1874, p. 197. Mr. Warner, who lived at Leicester Abbey, said, however, that the stone had quite disappeared by the year 1840.
**British Association Report, 1878, p. 190.

From ‘Memorials of Old Leicestershire’ by Alice Dryden, 1911.

A verse taken from poem by Tom Murtagh
“My Loved Colmcille”

“When I think of it now sure my memory recalls
Pulliness, Pullaveeny, the lonely Four Walls;
The stately old Cromlech, och! oft I was told
It was lofted at ease by giants of old.
The hill by the church where we climbed long ago
To view the wide world in the valleys below,
Little homes and boreens and the rivers that spill
In the sylvan lagoon of my loved Colmcille”

Source: “A path through Colmcille”, compiled by Owen Denneny

Also known as “Leachd-nan-sleagher” – the rock of the spears, variously translated as really meaning “Leach-nan-sluagh” – the rock of the hosts or gatherings, and “Leachd-nan-slochd” – the rock of the pits or impressions.

About sixty years ago a respectable man declared that he was cutting a hedge between Trefas and Pant y Groes when a grey-headed old man came to him and told him that there was an underground way from Caerau to Pentre-Evan ; and that if he excavated a certain place he would find two hundred ” murk ” (? marks).

That’s quite a long tunnel but who cares.

From ‘The History of St Dogmael’s Abbey’ by Emily Pritchard (1907), who was actually quoting the Rev. Henry Vincent in Archaeologia Cambrensis, Oct. 1864.

Legend has it that Merlin the greatest Magician Britain has ever known, wandered through the Wessex Downland and in a moment of madness turned a flock of sheep to stone......these are now seen as the sarsen field below Kingstone Down.