The roman road known as Wades Causeway was supposed to have been built by the local giant Wade. He built the road so that his wife, Bell, could cross the swampy moors to milk her giant cow.
Bell carried the cobbles and shingles used for the road in her giant apron. Occasionally Bell’s apron would slip, dropping piles of stones around the moors (the barrows and standing stones of the moors).
The devil is supposed to be responsible for the near by Hole of Horcum or the Devils Punchbowl as it’s known locally. Blakey Topping, Freeborough Hill and Roseberry Topping are supposed to be the result of the handfuls of earth thrown across the moors.
If you look at the sides of the hole you can still see his fingermarks.
Another folk tales attributes the Hole to the local giant Wade. He scooped the earth out of the ground to create Wades Causeway.
A farmer returning home late one night heard music coming from Willy Howe. On investigation he found a door which neither he or anyone else had seen before.
He peeped inside and saw a table groaning with food and a bunch of hobs making merry.
The hobs invited him in and offered him a drink. He took the drink and then dashed off with the cup. The hobs gave chase but as soon as he crossed the first beck on his route they gave up and returned to their feast.
On arriving home he saw that the cup was a fabulous gold vessel.
He presented this cup to King Henry I who later passed it on to his brother-in-law King David of Scotland
With reference to the previous folklore post.
“In the 1930’s an old farmer in the Roppa area, used the phrase ‘He wur swearing like Billy Norman coming out of the fog on the moor’ “.
The North York Moors, An Introduction
Stanhope White
1979
A Local saying
Cleveland in the clay,
Bring two shoes, carry one away.
A a, flea fly, a magpie an bacon flitch
Is t’ Yorkshireman’s coit-of arms.
An’t reason they’ve chozzen theaze things soa rich
Is becoss they hev all special charms.
A flea will bite whoivver it can-
An soa’ mi lads, will a Yorkshireman;
A fly will sup wi’ Dick, Tom and Dan-
An soa i’gow will a Yorkshireman;
A magpie can talk for a terrible span-
An soa an’ all, can a Yorkshireman;
A flitch is noa gooid whol* it’s hung, ye’ll agree-
No more is a Yorkshireman, doan’t ye see.
*till
Folk tales of Yorshire
H.L. Gee
1952
” A very old custom, but which has now been pretty nigh stamped out by the county policeman, is that of ’ Riding the Stang’. It is not dead yet though; I witnessed the stang being ridden as recently as 1891 in Guisborough, and in many of the villages in Wensleydale it i9s to this day resorted to when considered needed.
The Stang is held in wholesome dread by a certain class of evil-doers. Wife-beaters and immoral characters chiefly had and have the benefit of the stang. Whatever their discovered sin might be, was fully set forth in the stang doggeral. One or two points have to be, or at least are, most carefully observed: (1) The real name of the culprit must not be mentioned (2) The stang must be ridden in three seperate parishes each night: and in many places to make the proceedings quite legal, it is considered a sin qua non that the stang master must knock at the door of the man or woman they were holding up to ridicule, and ask for a pocket -piece, i.e. fourpence.
The whole proceeding was carried out as follows:-
An effigy made of straw and old clothes representing the culprit was bound to a pole* and set in an upright position in the centre of either a handcart or a small pony cart, in which was seated the stang master: and folowing behind were gathered all the ragamuffins of the village, armed with pan lids, tin cans, tin whistles, or anything which could be made to produce a discordant sound.
Being ready ,the cart was drawn in front of the culprits house and after a fearful hubbub, the stang master cried out in a sing song voice:-
Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle tang,
It’s nut foor your part ner mah part
‘At Ah rahd the stang,
Bud foor yan Bill Switch whau his wife did bang,
Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle tang.
He banged her, he banged her, he banged her indeed,
He banged her, he banged her, afoor sha steead need;
Upstairs aback o’ t’ bed
He sairly brayed her wharl she bled,
Oot o’ t’ hoose on ti’ t’ green
Sikan a seeght ez niver war seen,
Ez neean c’u’d think, ez neean could dream.
Sa ah gat ma few cumarades
Ti traal ma aboot:
Sae it’s hip, hip hurrah lads,
Set up a gert shoot,
An’ blaw all yer whistles,
Screeam, rattle an’ bang
All ‘at ivver ya’ve gitten,
Foor Ah ride the stang.
Then, for a few moments, there arose a tumult of sound, to which the wildest ravings of bedlam would seem insignificant. This performance lasts three nights, and on the third, the effigy is burned in front of the culprits house.”
* The Pole was a stang or cow-staff
Yorkshire Wit, Character, Folklore & Customs
R. Blakeborough
Published 1911