This features the stones as a place of ill reputation, the type of place you’d find a bad-tempered witch throwing about curses to do with big subjects like sex and death. You’d imagine the stones’ towering presence helped the curse on a bit too – it certainly required very elaborate countermeasures.
An old dame gave me the following as having occurred years ago at Kirby Hill, near Boroughbridge. A young couple, recently married, met the witch (Sally Carey) near the Devil’s Arrows. What they had done to gain Sally’s displeasure, legend does not say, but as they passed the old lady she shook her stick, and almost screamed, “Ya want a lad, bud Ah’ll mak it a lass”; and sure enough, when the baby arrived, it was a girl. They had hoped it would be a boy, for much future fortune depended upon their having a son and heir. Still they hoped, should they be blest with a further addition, that the next arrival would be a boy. Three or four months after the birth of their daughter, the husband was thrown off his horse and killed.
Some time after the sad event, and late in the evening, Sally knocked at the widow’s door, on its being opened, the old hag screamed, brandishing her stick in the widow’s face, “It shan’t be a lad this tahm, nowther.” So terrified was her victim that she fainted, and was found some time afterwards in a doubled-up position and unable to rise. By-and-by, when sufficiently recovered, her friends strongly urged her to pay a visit to the wise man of Aldborough.
At last she was prevailed upon to do so, when a supreme effort on his part was made to break the witch’s power. Much of what the wise man did, the old lady had forgotten. All she remembered was that at midnight, with closed doors and windows, a black cat and a black cock bird were roasted to a cinder, on a fire made from boughs of the rowan tree; a long incantation was also pronounced, of which she could not call to mind a single word, for as she put it, ‘wa war all ti freetened.’ The ‘all’ consisted of the widow, my informant – then a maiden – and a mother of seven sons, the trio being necessary for the working of the charm.
When the baby was born, it was a boy, but a cripple. Once again the wise man was visited. This time the almost heart-broken mother was assured that, if she remained unwedded for seven years, her son would outlive his weakness, his back would grow straight, and all would be well. This demand was readily complied with. “But,” added the old dame, “t’ au’d witch tried all maks an’ manders o’ waays ti git her ti wed. Ah nivver knaw’d a lass seea pesthered wi’ chaps for ti ‘tice her, bud sha kept single, and bested t’ au’d witch i’ t’ end, fer t’ bairn grew up ti be ez straight an’ strang a chap ez yan need wish ti clap yan’s e’es on. Ah mahnd him weel, an’ ther’s nowt aboot that.”
From ‘Wit, character, folklore and customs of the North Riding of Yorkshire’ by Richard Blakeborough (1898).