Latest Folklore

To the superstition about the sides of the sheep of Largo Law, add, as a note, that the same idea prevails in the south about the teeth of those which graze upon the Eildon hills. We know, from authentic documents, that there were gold mines in these hills in the time of James VI; but whether the metal communicates any tinge to the verdure, and the verdure again to the teeth of the sheep, must be left to naturalists.

From the additions to ‘The Popular Rhymes of Scotland’ by Robert Chambers (1826).

The Largo Law sheep have golden fleeces due to the golden hoard beneath the surface. I thought Largo Law was on TMA but it seems not – insufficient archaeology! It is a prominent hill near the stones at Lundin Links, and you can see a photo of it on that page.

Just to add a bit to Paulus’ post, the reason that the Giant had such a thing against Shrewsbury was as follows:

“In the old days, when the ancient town of Shrewsbury was but newly built, its citizens, especially those who worked about the River Servern, were venturesome persons. One day three of them in quite a small boat, light and fast, with a single sail and oars went down the river. Fishing had been bad, and these men were prospecting for fresh ground, particularly for eels, of which Shrewsburians were notably fond.

Tempted by the wide smoothness of the river and the beautiful new scenery along its banks, the three pioneers went on for days, camping at nights on the bank, till they emerged on to what is now the Bristol Channel.

Turning westward into the calmer waters sheltered by South Wales, the three fishermen came to a very pleasant coast, seemingly abandoned by human beings. It was deserted because its sole inhabitant was an enormous giant, who tyrranised so cruelly over people of normal stature that the latter preferred to keep away altogether from his oppressive dominance.

Like all giants of antiquity, the South Walian individual was of incalculable strength but excessively lazy, stupid and revengeful of small injuries.

The Shrewsbury men knew naught of this. They came to a pretty little river tumbling into the Channel from beautiful mountain scenery.At the mouth of the river were some gigantic eel traps full of huge eels. Amazed at first by the stupendous size of the traps, the voyagers were so tempted by the excellence of the eels that they decided to help themselves, arguing that a few out of such quantities would never be missed.

As the three Shrewsbury fishermen finished loading their boat the giant woke from slumber on the other side of the hill. His yawns sounded like thunder, and his taking deep breaths was the wind in the tree tops. Greatly alarmed, the eel stealers got out their oars and pulled away. Fortunate for them that they did so. A few minutes later the immense hair-fringed face of the giant appeared over the hilltop. Seeing what had happened the giant strode slowly down the to the shore, and in a voice like the roaring of many bulls commanded the fugitives to stop. The tide was running up, the wind filled the sail, the two at the oars pulled strenuously, and the boat sped northward. Feeling themselves safe, the Shrewsbury men gathered courage. The steersman, a fellow with a stentorian voice, was foolish enough to shout back ‘we be Shrewsbury men, and we always get what we want.‘

Hearing it, the giant fell into a paroxysm of rage. He shook his fist, cursed, and swore he would exterminate the whole tribe of Shrewsbury folk, the three representatives of which only derided the more. Whereat the giant picked up rocks large as houses and threw them after the retreating boat, which narrowly escaped being swamped by the big waves set up.

Safely back in Shrewsbury, the three men excited astonishment and some incredulity by the story of their adventures, but the eels were incontrovertibly the finest ever brought into the town.”

This is what got the giant mad, leading to his cross-country trek with the shovel-full of sand and mud that would become the Wrekin.

From “Legends of the Severn Valley” – Alfred Rowberry Williams (Folk Press Limited).

On the farm of Clerkston, in the parish of Lesmahagow, there had existed since creation an immense stone, or saxum, which, being deeply bedded in the middle of a good field, at a great distance from any other rocks, was productive of infinite inconvenience to the husbandman, and defrauded the proprietor of a considerable portion of territory.

Beneath this stone, it was believed by the country people of the last generation, that there was secreted a vast treasure, in the shape of “a kettle-full, a boot-full, and a bull-hide-full,” of gold; all which got the ordinary name, reason unknown, of “katie Neevie’s hoord.” The credibility of this popular tradition was attested by a rhyme to the following effect:--

Between Dillerhill and Crossfoord,
Here Lies Katie Neevie’s Hoord.

Many efforts had been made, according to the gossips, to remove the stone, and get at the treasure; but all were baffled by the bodily appearance of the enemy of mankind, who, by breathing intolerable flame in the faces of those making the attempt, obliged them to desisted. Thus well guarded, the legacy of Mrs. Katherine Niven lay for centuries as snug as if it had been deposited in Chancery; and it was not till at least an hundred years after the last despairing effort had been made that the charm was at length broke.

Mr James Prentice, the present farmer of Clerkston, had the address to convince several Irishmen, who had served him during the harvest, of the truth of the said rhyme; and, by expatiating upon the supposed immensity of the treasure, wrought up their curiosity and their cupidity to such a pitch, that they resolved, with his permission, to break the stone in pieces, and make themselves master of whatever might be found below. On the day after the kirn, therefore, the poor fellows provided themselves with a well-loaded gun, for the protection of their persons from the Devil, and fell to work, with punches and mallets, to blow up and utterly destroy the huge stone which alone intervened between them and everlasting affluence.

They laboured the whole day, without provoking any visit from Satan, and at last succeeded in fairly eradicating the stone from the field which it had so long encumbered; when they became at once convinced of the fallacy of the rhyme, of the craft of Mr. Prentice, and of their own deluded credulity.

p68 in ‘The Popular Rhymes of Scotland’ by Robert Chambers (1826).

This large hillfort was protected on one side by the natural crags, and had a single rampart around the rest of its perimeter. A lot of the stones from the wall have gone, but the Canmore record suggests that there are still some massive ‘grounders’ that remain. It also mentions that the boundaries of three parishes meet here.

Robert Chambers’ ‘Popular Rhymes of Scotland’ (1826) says on page 33:

On the top of Benarty, which rises above Loch Orr, there were formerly held games, which all the herds of Fife, and other neighbouring counties, attended. They brought their wives, daughters and sweethearts; and having a plentiful stock of victuals, kept up the fete for a few days, bivouacking upon the ground during the night. The chief games were the golf, the foot-ball, and the wads*; and what with howling, singing, and drinking, after the manner of the modern Irish, they continued to spend the time very merrily. The top of Benarty is flat, and sufficiently extensive for their for their purpose. This custom is now disused, -- the number of herds being much diminished, and the profession not being of such importance in the country as formerly, on account of the increased number of fences.

* Wad -- a pledge or hostage.

“In this game the players being equally divided, and a certain space marked out between them, each lays down one or more Wads or pledges at that extremity where the party, to which he belongs, choose their station. A boundary being fixed at an equal distance from the extremities, the object is to carry off the wads from the one of these to the other. The two parties, advancing to the boundary or line, seize the first opportunity of crossing it, by making inroads on the territories of each other. He who crosses the line, if sezed by one of the opposite party, before he has touched any of their wads, is set down beside them as a prisoner, and receives the name of a Stinker; nor can he be released, till one of his own side can touch him, without being intercepted by one of the other; in which case he is free. If any one is caught in the act of carrying a wad, it is taken from him; but he cannot be detained as a prisoner, in consequence of his having touched it the pursuit is at an end. When the one party have carried off, to the extremity of their ground, all the other wads of the other, the game is finished. ”

Hope you’ve got that. It’s from Folklore vol VII – Fife, here.

The Height Atween Tintock-Tap And Coulter-Fell
Is Just Three Quarters O’ An Ell.

These hills are the most conspicuous objects in a district of Lanarkshire, which is in general rather flat; and the rhyme seems merely to denote that they are nearly of the same height.

p16 in ‘The popular rhymes of Scotland’ by Robert Chambers (1826).

Can it really only refer to something so mundane? It sounds like an aphorism you would speak sagely in response to a certain situation. You wouldn’t say:“There’s many a slip twixt cup and lip. This seems merely to denote that some people have messy table manners.”

This stone is otherwise known as Clach a’ Druidh. It’s a massive lumpy glacial erratic boulder, over six metres long and broad, which rises four metres out of the ground. Obviously it’s the rock of the druids. Slightly less convincing is to link the name with Roderick Hael, a king of Strathclyde.
This page from the Geological Conservation Review says it is composed of a basalt, criss-crossed by haematite veins. A quick websearch suggests it’s currently (and probably always has been) the haunt of rock climbers. If you can’t get to the top, BRAC has some photos of some cupmarks that are up there.

Canmap describes two stones here. They’re only about four feet high and are both ‘natural stones with no artificial markings’. This folklore admittedly doesn’t involve them, but is about their environment above the steep slopes down into the city.

The Glasgow chronicle (January, 1826) records the following occurrence at Paisley, on the occasion of some silkworkers being out of employment.*

“Visions have been seen of carts, caravans, and coaches going up Gleniffer braes without horses, or with horses without heads. Not many nights ago, mourning coaches, too, were seen going up the Cart above the town, with all the solemnity of a funeral. Some hoary-headed citizens relate, that about thirty years backward in their history, a famine was prognosticated in much the same way, by unusual appearances in the Causey-side. The most formidable witnesses in favour of the visions come from Neilston, who declare that they have seen the coaches, &c. two by two, coming over the braes, and are quite willing to depose to said facts whenever asked, before the Paisley magistrates.”

They’re probably visible at the moment, as I assume this bit [*] refers to Woeful Economic Climate.

“Knock Firinn is called by the people of the country ‘Knock Dhoinn Firinne,‘ the mountain of Don of Truth. This mountain is very high, and may be seen for several miles round; and when people are desirous to know whether or not any day will rain, they look at the top of Knock Firinn, and if they see a vapour or mist there, they immediately conclude that rain will soon follow; believing that Donn of that mountain and his aerial assistants are collecting the clouds, and that he holds them there for some short time, to warn the people of the approaching rain. As the appearance of mist on the mountain in the morning is considered an infallible sign that that day will be rainy, Donn is called ‘Donn Firinne,‘ Donn of Truth.”

In ‘Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland’ by Thomas Crofton Croker (1828).

I assume one of the stones here must be the owner of this story?

[referring to a stone at Skelmuir Hill:] Its position is accounted for in local tradition by its having fallen upon and crushed to death an old-time farmer who was digging below it in search of a bull’s hide full of gold. The same legend is told of two other monoliths in Aberdeenshire, one at Kildrummy and one at Binghill.

from ‘Report on the Stone Circles of the North-East of Scotland’ by Fred. R Coles, in PSAS 38 (1904).

In ‘Report on Stone Circles of the North-East of Scotland’ in PSAS v38 (1904) the author talks of this circle, but also mentions a stone elsewhere called the ‘White Cow of Crichie’ –

In the Buchan, this curious appellation is frequently given to great stones, presumably, as this one, of white quartz.

Are these the white cows? like the bovine equivalent of the ‘grey wethers’ of Wiltshire?

Nice story, Drew! It sounds like the stones have been moving/moved all over the place. Here’s a much more dull version – but it’s nice to see the stories are still there after 100 years.

Since making our investigations, we have ascertained* that many years ago there was a group of three stones, and that deserved ill-fortune befell the two farmers (whose lands were divided by the dike) for their wantonly removing them. These three stones stood in a triangle, and were probably the remains of a Circle.

*Through the good offices of friends at Longside whose relatives formerly lived near Skelmuir.

From PSAS v38, 1904: ‘Report on Stone Circles of the North-East of Scotland’ by Fred R Coles.

Mythology, as well, as an old old poem has a story to tell.

“A long time ago a weary man left his his pot of gold at the foot of the one remaining stone stone at Skelmuir and made it promise to look after it until he returned. This stone, apparently, could talk and replied positively. However security in those days wasn’t tight and the stone fell asleep. Bad mistake! Along came a thief, fresh from the pipe/mate stealing at the Candle Stone, and an attempt was made to steal the gold. Being shaken from sleep the Skelmuir stone promptly fell on top of the thief and more importantly the gold. At this point the thiefs friend bolted but guilt weighed it down and it dropped down lifeless at Cortiecram never to move again. Back came the original traveller after all the action had finished and displeasure was the mood. After one almighty row the Skelmuir stone stood speechless and bowed ashamed that security had lapsed. In anger the traveller kicked the stone in the backside and pulled it to the north side of the hill never to see it’s friends again.”

This was taken from a story by the children from Strichen Primary School hanging upon the villages library wall during one of their history projects.

To be fair “Rhiannon” has a similar story for Cortie Cram and this has probably lots in common with other “golden hide/trove” stories.

Just when leaving the site one of the men who lived in the houses, opposite, asked what was happening. Looking at the stone was my answer. In return he explained that his granny had attended the nearby primary school. She had said that stone had a sad face because a rival had stolen his mate and pipe, the mate being part of the circle presumably, and then went on to steal gold at Skelmuir Hill.

(I know about the Skelmuir story, the pipe/mate story well........Still, if you don’t ask!)

Local farmers in the area have long maintained that a circle in the area was destroyed and remnants placed in a wall at the Mains Of Laithers or the Mill of Muiresk. But what stone circle? Carlin? Sheilburn? Or another? As usual the cow back scratcher story appears! Yawn! But relaxing for the cow!!

This is from Richard Gough’s additions to Camden’s ‘Britannia’ (volume 2):

[Thetford] was a seat of the kings of the East Angles. The Danes are generally supposed to have cast up the great hill [Thetford Castle] here about 865 when they wintered on it opposite to that on which king Edmund’s army lay, on the extremity of which are many tumuli (particularly one called the Tut hill) where were buried the slain in the battle between him and them.

Sounds like the Danes still feature in local folklore:

Tutt Hill, Suffolk.
The noises of fighting and a man screaming have been heard over the years. The fighting is said to date from the Viking attack on the town of Thetford which was successfully taken by them. As for the screaming man, tradition tells us that he was a Saxon traitor who betrayed Thetford to the Vikings and was rewarded for his efforts by being executed by his victorious ‘allies’.

‘They Still Serve: a complete guide to the military ghosts of Britain’ by R McKenzie (2008), viewable on Google Books.

William Lawson of Scotsmill, whilst discussing the circles at Scotsmill and Corrie mentioned Crookmore. He confirmed that there had been a causeway. His grandfather had told him that slabs had come from the Correen Hills to enable its construction.

2/4/09

William Lawson from Scotsmill, down the road towards Tullynessle, owns the east side of the fence. The owners of Terpersie Castle the west. Mr Lawson mentioned that at least one of the stones was pulled down the hill to the castle to be used as another gatepost.

2/4/09

On arriving at Scotsmill Farm I was greeted by William Lawson, the farmer who seemed only to delighted to speak about circles in his area. Two stones remain erect, one rectangular in shape, the other taller about 1 meter in height. This stone had been drilled and probably dynamited.

William then showed a photograph dating from the 1880s clearly showing that there had been at least three stones standing. In this photograph was Williams great grandfather James along with his sons James and William. Also featured was a donkey, with a cart, who was called Moses. The stones, at this time, were used as cow back scratchers. Dynamite has been mentioned and this more than likely led to the destruction of some stones. The William of the 1800s was an army volunteer and would blow stones up as a means to test gunpowder as well as entertain some of the local children.

As for the third stone it vanished most likely into a wall or into a hole in the ground. More information was given about the circle at Corrie and the destroyed circle at Crookmore.

2/4/09

People round here must be very fond of a tale – the variety and permutations are endless.

Some talked of the king’s palace and kitchen and well; and the imaginative Stukeley had a story of a road across the fields, ‘bearing very rank corn,’ which was known as ‘King Arthur’s Hunting-causeway.’ Here we see the warrior king turning into a shadowy creature like the wild huntsman of the German tales.

[...] A labourer, not long ago, told Mr. Bennett that the old bridle-path leading towards Glastonbury was King Arthur’s Lane, and that sometimes on rough winter nights he heard the king and his pack of hounds go by.

The rustics have other legends of a more interesting kind. They are convinced that the hill is hollow and teeming with fairy gold, though the latter belief may be only a reminiscence of the fine coins of Antoninus. [...] Mr Bennett told a story about a broken quern which had found near a hut site on the hill. A labourer said, ‘Now, Sir, I see what I could never make out afore; what it was the fairies wanted with carrying corn up here out of Foreside.’ ‘Why,’ said Mr. Bennett, ‘do the fairies bring corn up here?’ ‘Yes, Sir, we all know that; but I never could make out for why; but now I see, for here is their grindstone.‘

Ah those witty locals. In ‘Somerset: Highways, Byways, and Waterways. Edinburgh Review 181 (April 1895).

The Mill Of Kelly was a very different place 80 years ago being a proper ran farm. Nowadays it is uninhabited except for a load of cats who are fed by Patrick Will. He was born at the mill and still lives in the area near Haddo House whose land the mill sits on.

In the field the behind the mill the circle stood facing southwards on the face of a small mound. However in the 1950s agriculture, in the North East of Scotland, was the industry of the day and it was decided that the circle would be destroyed. Fortunately Patrick and his brother rescued the stones placing then in a wall leading to the mill. In the wall are 22 stones varying from 2 to 4 feet in length. In the 60s both brothers worked for Haddo Estate during which they ploughed up another stone, this they left sitting on a wall on the west side of the mill. On the east side of the farm once stood a hut circle. Many flints were discovered along with several other hut circles in the same valley.

The stones still remain and their adventure continued when a Professor A. Davies appeared, in 1992, to look at the stones. He confirmed to Patrick that the stones had been a circle like the one at nearby Shethin.

Schivas House is also near and it came as no surprise to learn that Patrick had worked there as well. He had also much to tell about that place.

Sites and Patrick visited several times November 08.

Thor’s cave has obtained a diversity of names. Dr. Plot calls it Thyrsis cavern, Thor’s house, Thurshole, and Hobhurst cave, some of which names appear to have originated with the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, who now call it Huzzes Tar, which according to traditions handed down from father to son, was formerly the retreat of a very mysterious being called Hobhurst.

[...] There is a small opening in the rock immediately below Thor’s Cave, which is known by the name of Radcliffe’s stable, from a person of that name having concealed his horse there when the Scotch rebels were making marauding excursions on marching through the country in 1745.

From Samuel Carrington’s ‘Account of the Excavations and Discoveries in Thor’s Cave, Wetton Dale...’ in Reliquary 6, April 1866.
I’m sure Stubob will know which is the latter cave, after his feats of mountaineering, and the likelihood of anyone being able to stable a horse in it.

“Thirst House” must strike the reader as a singular name for a cave, which, to ordinary frequenters, appears to be remarkably devoid of water. There is, however, a small spring in the valley below the entrance; and according to the lore of the country-side, Hob charms its waters on Good Friday, so that whoso quenches his thirst thereat -- with proper faith of course-- will be cured of any ailment he may be suffering from. It is obvious that this is merely a popular explanation of the name, the spring being too insignificant and distant for the name to have originated from it. The reference to Hob points to the solution.

Mr Salt [...] reports that a farmer in the district, occasionally finding small, old-fashioned tobacco-pipes when ploughing his fields, explained their presence by the tradition that Deep Dale was “a noted place for the fairies in the olden times”; and to give point to his explanation, he related how a workman, in crossing the valley one early morning, caught one of them and put it into his bag and took it part way home; but as it shrieked so pitifully he let it go, whereupon it ran back to the valley!

Hob-Hurst was a capricious elf, who, when in a good humour, made everything on the farm, particularly in the dairy, go smooth and prosperous; but when irritated made the cows go dry, the milk turn sour, the crocks smash, and generally infuse a spirit of contrariness in everything. A charm used in this district against his trickiness is given in an early volume of the Reliquary; it ran thus:--

“Churn, butter, churn!
Peter stands at our gate
Waiting for a butter-cake!
Churn, butter, churn!”

[...] The credit of the discovery of archaeological remains seems to be due to Mr. Millet, a young man of Buxton, who about ten years ago was attracted, in common with his school-fellow, to the cave, through a story of money hidden in it by an old miser who died suddenly.

From ‘Recent Cave Hunting in Derbyshire’ (part 2), in Reliquary April 1897.

Not strictly about Aveline’s Hole, but about another cave also in Burrington Combe:

[...the cave] locally known by the name of Goatchurch. Like all the other large caverns in the district, it has its legends. The dwellers in the neighbourhood, who have never cared to explore its recesses, will tell you that a certain dog, put in here, found its way out after many days at Wookey Hole, having lost all its hair in scrambling through the narrow passages. At Cheddar the same legend is appropriated to the Cheddar cave. At Wookey the dog is said to have travelled back to Cheddar.

‘Cave Hunting’ by W Boyd Dawkins, Macmillan’s Magazine, October 1870.

In 2003 some scratches were found in Goatchurch Cavern. You can see a photo at the fascinating Apotropaios website. It’s been suggested that they’re ‘ritual protection marks’ and an invocation to the Virgin Mary – maybe to do with the fact that the local caves were seen to be entrances to Unpleasantness and to be avoided.

An example of the imaginative descriptions you can spin to tourists, probably:

[The view] seems better than anything you saw before. Besides, it is historic ground; here the English fought their way up into the Danes’ stronghold. Villagers will show you ‘Guthrum’s kitchen’ and other of his haunts inside the still perfect rampart.

From ‘Good-bye to Wessex’ in ‘London Society’ magazine, April 1871.

Cheddar Cave [...] is lofty in parts, and full everywhere of fantastic incrustations -- turkeys hanging by the legs, a brown loaf, with the mark of the baker’s thumb, ropes of onions, organ pipes, cables, curtains (broad, transparent sheets), jelly glasses (reflected in a pool), and a stalactite and stalagmite separated now, as when the cave was first discovered, by just the space of one drop of water. This, Mr. Cox used to say, shows the slow growth of all these diverse petrifactions, the breaking off of one of which (he ominously hinted) had brought ruin on a thriving Taunton solicitor.

Mr Cox, we are told, discovered the cave in 1837 when he was breaking up the ground for potatoes. Running a show cave obviously became more lucrative. I thought it was interesting that he used the same kind of ‘harm to meddlers’ threat that accompany other stoney sites.

From ‘Good-bye to Wessex’ in ‘London Society’ magazine, April 1871.