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General Category => General Scottish => Topic started by: Stirling Thompson on September 11, 2008, 07:50:37 AM

Title: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on September 11, 2008, 07:50:37 AM
Intesesting odd bits you might run across that you'd like to pass along? I'll start us off with two ancient, but apparently still practiced, traditions.

Wish Trees and Clootie Wells

A Wish Tree is an individual tree, usually distinguished by species, position or appearance, which is used as an object of wishes and offerings. Such trees are identified as possessing a special religious or spiritual value. By tradition, believers make votive offerings in order to gain from that nature spirit or goddess fulfillment of a wish.

One form of votive offering is the token offering of a coin. One such tree still stands near Ardmaddy House in Argyll, Scotland. The tree is a hawthorn, a species traditionally linked with fertility, as in 'May Blossom'. The trunk and branches are covered with hundreds of coins which have been driven through the bark and into the wood. The local tradition is that a wish will be granted for each of the coins so treated.

On the island of St Maol Rubha or St Maree, in Loch Maree, Gairloch in the Highlands is an oak Wish Tree made famous by a visit in 1877 by Queen Victoria and its inclusion in her published diaries. The tree, and others surrounding it, are festooned with hammered in coins. It is near the healing well of St Maree, to which votive offerings were made. Records show that bulls were sacrificed openly up until the 18th century.

Full article is here: http://encyclopedia.thefreedictionary.com/Wish+Tree

Clootie wells (also Cloutie or Cloughtie wells) are places of pilgrimage in Celtic areas. They are wells or springs, almost always with a tree growing beside them, where strips of cloth or rags have been left, usually tied to the branches of the tree as part of a healing ritual. In Scots nomenclature, a "clootie" or "cloot" is a strip of cloth or rag.

When used at the clootie wells in Scotland and Ireland, the pieces of cloth are generally dipped in the water of the holy well and then tied to a branch while a prayer of supplication is said to the spirit of the well - in modern times usually a saint, but in pre-Christian times a goddess or local nature spirit. This is most often done by those seeking healing, though some may do it simply to honour the spirit of the well. In either case, many see this as a probable continuation of the ancient Celtic practice of leaving votive offerings in wells or pits.

In Scotland, near the villages of North Kessock and Munlochy, 1 mile west of Munlochy on the A832, is a clootie well at an ancient spring dedicated to Saint Curidan (or Curitan), where rags are still hung on the surrounding bushes and trees. Here the well was once thought to have had the power to cure sick children who were left there overnight. Craigie Well at Avoch on the Black Isle has both offerings of coins and clooties. Rags, wool and human hair were also used as charms against sorcery, and as tokens of penance or fulfilment of a vow.

Full article is here: http://encyclopedia.thefreedictionary.com/clootie+well
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on September 11, 2008, 05:09:36 PM
Thanks Stu for that bit of Scottish history.  You have added so much of interest to this forum, thanks again.

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on September 16, 2008, 05:37:12 AM
Jock Tamson's Bairns
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

"We're a' Jock Tamson's Bairns" (Lowland Scots for we're all John Thomson's children) is a popular saying in Scotland and the far north of England, and is known in other parts of the world. Nowadays, the phrase is often used to mean "we're all the same under the skin".

It has been suggested as a euphemism for God, so the saying could mean "we are all God's children". The expression "We're a' the bairns o' Adam", conveys exactly the same meaning, see Freedom Come-All-Ye a song written by Hamish Henderson. Scottish Gaelic also has the shorter saying "Clann MhicTamhais" (Thomson/MacTavish's children/clan). This is a common egalitarian sentiment in Scottish national identity, also evident in the popularity of the Robert Burns song A Man's A Man for A' That.

Although Jock Tamson's Bairns is used as a personification of the Scots nation, it is also used to refer to the human race in general.

It is also used when people think one of their number is showing off, or considers himself better than his peers: "Who does he think he is? We're all Jock Tamson's bairns." The downside of this egalitarianism is the traditional lack of acceptance of anyone from a small community who moves on and up, socially or professionally, even if they display no conceit. "Too good for us now, are ye?"

One explanation of this phrase (as recorded in the History of Duddingston Kirk) is that the Reverend John Thomson (Jock Tamson, Thamson), minister of Duddingston Kirk, Edinburgh, from 1805 to 1840, called the members of his congregation "ma bairns" (cognate with Geordie me bairns; English: 'my children') and this resulted in folk saying "we're a' Jock Tamson's bairns" which gave a sense of belonging to a select group.

"Jock Tamson" (John Thomson) would have also been a very common Scottish name, and would have been equivalent to such phrases as "John Doe", "John Smith", "Joe Bloggs" etc.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on September 17, 2008, 06:49:53 AM
Horseman's Word
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Horseman's Word was a secret society operating amongst horse trainers, blacksmiths, ploughmen, and other horsemen in Scotland from the 18th century until as late as the 20th century. They taught horse whispering and other magic, and like the Toadmen of East Anglia, they were believed to have been taught to control horses by a secret word, as well as by use of scented substances, or by the use of a toad's pelvis bone.

The initiation rituals into the society incorporated a number of elements such as reading passages from the Bible backwards, and the secrets included Masonic-style oaths, gestures, passwords and handshakes. Like the similar societies of the Miller's Word and the Toadmen, they were believed to have practiced witchcraft.

The Horseman’s Word was a trade union formed in Northern Scotland in the late 18th century whose goal was to protect horse trainers and ploughmen, along with their trade knowledge, from the threat of an encroaching economic system in which the resources for production were becoming privately owned and wages and prices for goods and services were being taken out of the skilled laborers control and put into the hands of large farm owners. The formation of the Horseman’s Word also coincided with the draft horse becoming the primary working animal in the farming areas of Northern Scotland. As a result, the ability to raise and control these animals became a valued skill and people possessing this ability were in high demand. This created a desirable form of well paid and respectable work. The trade union, aside from protecting trade knowledge, wanted to ensure that the men engaged in this profession were efficiently trained and that the quality of their work was consistently good and that the remunerations for that work were appropriate.

After the candidate completed the initiation ceremony he was then given a word that was supposed to give him power over horses. So aside from being a secret society "The Horseman’s Word" was actually a spoken word. This secret word, which varied by location, was said to have magical and mystical qualities which would allow the keeper of the word to possess the ability by merely whispering it to bring horses under their complete control. Apart from gaining knowledge of the secret word more practical information and techniques about controlling and training horses was also passed on to members of the society. These methods were kept secret and done in such a way that the horseman maintained their reputation as having unique and even magical power over horses.

Until the initiation ceremony and induction into the society and the receiving of the word, the horseman who were not members of the society but potential candidates would have trouble with horses. This would often be caused by older ploughmen who were members of the society tampering with their horses. They would put things like tacks under the horse's collar to cause it to behave irrationally. This would be unknown to the potential candidate as the techniques for training and controlling the horses were not yet given to him. Most of these techniques were based on the horse's sharp sense of smell. Foul substances placed in front of the horse or on the animal itself would cause it to refuse to move forward. This technique is known as jading and is still used by horse trainers today. There were also pleasant smelling things that were used to make a horse move forward or calm down. If the substance was an oil it could be wiped on the trainer's forehead, they would then stand in front of the animal and the smell would draw it towards them. This practice was often used in taming unruly horses. There were also pleasant smelling and inviting materials, such as sweets, that the horseman could keep in their pocket in order to calm, attract, and subdue a crazed horse. Keeping these techniques secret, along with the myth that there was a word that only the horseman knew that gave them and them alone power over horses helped guarantee their reputation, prestige, job security, and pay. The same type of logic and protection of trade secrets can be seen among modern magicians who keep their tricks secret and only share them with other members of their trade.


Complete article is here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horseman%27s_Word
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on September 18, 2008, 07:34:23 AM
Fairy Flag
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Fairy Flag (in Scottish Gaelic, An Bratach Sith) is a fragment of cloth owned by the Clan MacLeod and preserved at Dunvegan Castle on the Isle of Skye in Scotland, where it is on display. The MacLeods consider it a magical artifact and family treasure.

Waving the Fairy Flag is said to provide salvation to the Clan MacLeod in the event of disaster, by summoning a fairy army. The flag has been waved twice, in the Middle Ages, but only one wave is left.

In the first waving, the MacLeods were greatly outnumbered in battle with the MacDonalds. At the exact point when the chief waved the Fairy Flag, the battle turned in favor of the MacLeods.

In the second waving, the clan's cattle were dying of pestilence. To avoid starvation, the chief summoned the fairy armies, who magically restored the cattle to health.

The 28th Chief, Dame Flora MacLeod of MacLeod, offered to wave the Fairy Flag over the cliffs of Dover should the Germans look victorious. MacLeod fighter pilots were known to have carried pictures of the flag with them, and it is said that not one was shot down. Dame Flora is also remembered for cutting off pieces of the flag for soldiers during this time.

Many legends exist on the origins of the fairy flag. In one such story, the chieftain's baby son was wrapped in the cloth by a fairy lady; in another, the chieftain took a fairy woman as a wife and she brought the cloth to the marriage, however she could only stay for seven years, after the seven years were gone she left, but she left the flag to protect her children; in a third, the banner was brought to Dunvegan by a MacLeod chieftain after years spent with the Sidhe.

A popular version of the legendary origin of the Fairy Flag is that there is truth in all of these stories: an early clan chieftan spent some time in the fairy realm. In his time there, he fell in love with the daughter of the fairy king, and they were married. Clan duty called, and he and his bride returned to the mortal realm. However, the fairy princess could only live in there for 7 years. Towards the end of this time, she gave birth to a baby boy, whom she tearfully left behind with the chief. Just before crossing over the fairy bridge back into her world, she begged that the baby never be left alone, as the sound of his crying would be too much for her to bear. That night, the clan had a feast, to distract the chief from his grief. As the MacLeods are famous for their piping and dancing, the nursemaid in charge of the baby snuck away from the nursery to join the party. When she was discovered, the chief immediately ran up to his son, only to find his fairy wife already there, singing the child back to sleep. When the chief entered the room, the fairy vanished, but left behind a blanket on their son, which became the Fairy Flag. The song she was singing is still sung within the clan, known either as the Dunvegan Lullaby or the Fairy Lullaby.

A long version of a second tale is available at the Fairy Flag page on Seoras.com. However, true believers in the Fairy Flag legend may prefer this tale about Sir Reginald. When he had the Fairy Flag mounted in its current frame, he hired an expert from the V&A. The expert told him that the Fairy Flag was very likely the Land Ravager. Sir Reginald replied that, although he respected the expert's opinion, he himself knew that the flag had been given to his family by the fairies. The expert politely deferred to Sir Reginald's superior knowledge.


Complete article is here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fairy_Flag
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on September 24, 2008, 11:11:44 AM
"Selkies", or "Seal People".

The folk of the Shetland and the Orkney Islands have many tales of these beings who are seals in the sea, but who can sometimes shed their seal-skins and become as other men and women. There are tales of the Selkies in the Western Isles as well, and even on the Scottish mainland. There were three brothers in the clan country of the Macraes who lived at Carr on Loch Duich, and they were said to have married selkie women. Two of the brothers hid their wives’ sealskins when they discovered that their wives were selkies, having found skins which the wives had tucked away. But the wives found the hiding places and disappeared into the sea waves , never to be seen again. The third brother found a wet seal-skin which his wife had failed to hide after one of her afternoon disappearances, and picking it up, he folded it and left it on a chest, saying to his wife that "someone" might have need of that skin from time to time. She stayed with him through the years and finally, in old age ,disappeared into the sea. She had given him a son, who would often swim out to the rocks and stay there through the night, and many of the fishermen would speak of the beautiful young male seal on the rocks on a moon-lit night. As the man came to his old age and could fish no more, his son always kept him in fish, and finally when the man died, the son was seen stripping down and plunging into the waves.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Michael Thompson on September 24, 2008, 08:27:13 PM
The Wounded Selkie

Like many stories of the seal-people, this one is about a fisherman. A dour fisherman, who lived alone and did not greatly care for anything. He was particularly un-fond of seals. The way he saw it, seals were the competition. They eat fish, the same fish he spent his days trying to catch The way he would fish was this; he had a number of bouys moored a long the coast, and he would row from bouy to bouy, pulling up the net tied under it, checking the catch, then putting the net back into the sea. When he got to the end of the line of bouys he would go back to the beginning and start again.

Some days the catch was good, and he would eat (and drink) well; some days, not so good - but that was the fishing. One time he began to notice that the catch was dwindling away from one net - day by day it grew smaller, until all that he was pulling up was a few shells, the odd fish bone and a lot of sea-weed. He had a good look at the net, and noticed that there were several big tears in it, and that the ends of the twine showed signs of something gnawing it. 'It's those bloody seals, I'll be bound', he said to himself. The seals were stealing his fish. Well, he decided he wasn't having this, and that the time had come to do something about it. So, the next morning, rather than checking the nets one by one, he just dropped anchor in sight of that one buoy, loosened his knife it it's sheath and settled down to watch. The morning wore into afternoon, and the rocking of his boat on the gentle swell had almost lulled him to sleep, when he heard a splash and a gurgle. The buoy was swaying rapidly from side to side, then it disappeared beneath the waves altogether.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and dived over the side of the boat, naked knife in hand...and saw a big seal worrying at the net. He swam down to the seal, and plunged his knife into it, pulling it through the seal's flesh with all his might. Blood billowed out of the wound, making a red fog in the water, and , even wounded, the seal proved stronger than the man. It wriggled and twisted, and wrenched the knife handle out of his hand, then disappeared in the now murky water.

Spluttering and gasping, the fisherman hauled himself back into his boat. 'Well', he thought, 'I might not have killed it, but that's one seal that'll trouble me no more. Problem solved'. But the next day, all of his nets were empty...and the next, and the next. By the end of the week, he was running out of money, and hungry as well, and could hardly be bothered to put out to sea anymore. So, when a stranger came up to him in the harbour and said, 'I hear you're a man as can lay their hands on some seal skins', the fisherman was only too ready to help. 'I certainly can,' he said, ' I don't owe them nothing. I'll be wanting a good price, mind'

'Well,' said the stranger, 'as to price, I can't speak to that, you'll have to come with me and meet my master'. This the fisherman was glad to do, and the pair of them walked out of the harbour, and along the coast path. As they reached the top of the cliffs, the stranger stopped, made a funnel of his hands around his mouth, and sang
'Hey an dah
Hey an dah
Hey an dah
Ho dah dah
Hyun dan dah
Hyun dan dah
Hyun dan dah
Ho dah dah'
.even before the stranger had finished the call, the sea below the cliffs was boiling with more sleek, black seals than the fisherman had ever seen in his life. The stranger grasped him tightly by the shoulders, and jumped clean off the cliff, pulling the fisherman with him. The instant the stranegr touched the water, he changed into a big, powerful bull seal, and the fingers on the fishermans shoudler became teeth. Try as he might, and he tried mightily hard, the fisherman Could not break that grip, and his chest beagn to ache with the effort of holding his breath, as he was dragged deeper and deeper. Now his chest brued as though it was on fire, and a blackness nibbled at the edges of his vision. Then, he knew, he was beaten, and with a gasp he opened his mouth, and the sea filled his lungs.

But that is not the end of the story. After some time, the fisherman awoke. His chest ached, and his head too. He felt around him, and felt damp rock. As he grew used to the dim light, he saw the stranger standing over him. The seal man helped the fisherman to his feet, then said, “'There is someone I would like you to meet,” and led him towards the back of the cave. There, on a rough bed of kelp, lay a young man. His chest was cut open in a wound that ran from shoulder to hip.

'This is my son,' said the seal man, 'and, if he is not healed soon, he will die. Oh, and I believe that this is yours' and he reached down beside the bed, and pulled from beneath the kelp the fisherman’s knife. The fisherman was now deeply afraid, and begining to feel ashamed. 'Have you brought me here for vengeance ?', he asked the seal-man. 'What can I do to you, other than kill you ?', replied the selkie 'And if I did that, would that help my son ? No, I have brought you here to help, if you will. Only the hand that casued the wound can heal the wound' The fisherman looked at the youth, at his pale flesh and the cruel gash across his chest. He thought of how he had resented and hated the seals. But still he said 'What must I do ?' 'Simply touch his hurt' said the seal-man.

And so, the fisherman bent forward and touched a trembling hand to the start of the wound, on the youth's shoulder. The flesh was deadly cold, and, as he drew his hand slowly along the gash, the fisherman felt an icy, burning pain crawl across his own chest. But, as his hand passed allong, the wound closed, as easily as you would close a jacket, and the flesh grew warm and the colour seeped back into it.

By the time he was halfway along the wound, the fisherman could hardly breathe for the pain in his own chest, and, as he reached the hip, and the wound was finally closed, he fell to his knees, gasping and panting. It seemed as though hsi own life had flowed out of his hand and into the young seal-man. He fell forward, and slept, exhausted. When he awoke, he was lying on the shore, at the foot of the cliffs. A little brusied and battered, but alive. He told those who asked that he had slipped, and fallen over the cliffs. Some believed him , some did not. But he never told another soul that, when he awoke, lying next to him on the shingle was a neat pile of his nets. Not only mended, but better than ever - and they always gave him a good catch. And on top of the nets was a creel. Inside were two of the biggest lobsters he had ever seen

From that day on, he was one fishreman that never hurt hair or hide of seal, and, if he was a few fish short from one net or another from time to time, he woudl shrug, and smile, and say 'Why not ? They have to live as well'
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on October 03, 2008, 10:48:58 AM
The Kelpie of Loch Garve

The story of the Kelpie of Loch Garve (so it's technically an Each Uisge, but we'll keep it as Kelpie for this story) tells of a Kelpie that lived at the depths of the loch with his wife.

Now the Kelpie obviously loved his cold wet lair at the bottom of the loch, and was well settled in his element. Although he would make trips on land (most likely hunting mortals) he was always glad to get home. His wife, however, was less impressed. She always felt the terrible cold, and shivered endlessly in that miserable lair at the bottom of the murky loch. At first the Kelpie put this down to her making a fuss over nothing, but as time went by she became more and more unhappy. Fearing that she might leave him, and worried about her welfare, the Kelpie racked his brains wondering what to do.

The very next day he made a decision. He went to shore and transformed himself into a handsome jet-black stallion (as kelpies mostly do) and made for the cottage of a local famous builder. The Kelpie tramped at the hearthstone until the man came out. Seeing this handsome black stallion standing before him, the man, either against his better judgement or oblivious to the warnings of waterhorses, was enticed to climb upon the horse's back. Immediately he became stuck fast, and the Kelpie galloped at high speed towards the loch with the terrified builder on his back. The Kelpie plunged into the icy waters, his tail pounding the surface like a thunder crash. As the two made their descent the reluctant passenger uttered a prayer. In what seemed like an age the builder was carried down into the black waters, but for some reason did not drown.

When they reached the bottom the Kelpie let the builder dismount, explained his predicament, and promised no hurt upon the builder or his family. He made a bargain that if the builder would do a small favour, then he and his family would have a plentiful supply of fish until the day he died: they would never want for food from the loch.

 So the builder - in accordance with the Kelpies wishes - set about building a huge magnificent fireplace and lum the like of which no mortal eyes had ever seen. The great chimney twisted upwards through the dark waters to almost the surface, to carry the smoke far away from the lair. Then the fireplace was lit and a great fire sprang up and began warming the submerged home. When the Kelpie saw the sheer delight upon his dear wife's face, he knew that the builder had fulfilled his bargain and more!

He took the builder back up through the dark, icy waters, and to his house, as if nothing had gone amiss that night - for time in the lands of the faeries does not have the same meaning here. True to his word the Kelpie never forgot the work of the tradesman. The builder and his family were never unable to put fish on the table, and lived like royalty.

But what of the Kelpie and his wife? Well, when the loch freezes over in the midst of the coldest winters, some say there is still to this day a patch of water that never freezes; a small patch of water that never cools like the rest of the loch. Perhaps where a tall lum nearly reaches the surface. This is because a fire still burns merrily in the lair of the Kelpie and his happy wife.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Donna on October 03, 2008, 12:39:04 PM
Stu,
I enjoy the poems, and the jokes really brighten my day, but I LOVE these stories!

Donna
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on October 04, 2008, 03:31:42 PM
That was a great story Stu.  Shows what wonderful imaginations our ancestors had.  :)

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on October 08, 2008, 03:20:42 PM
A bold tale of the Borders...

The Weird of the Three Arrows

Sir James Douglas, the companion of Bruce, and well known by his appellation of the 'Black Douglas,' was once, during the hottest period of the exterminating war carried on by him and his colleague Randolph, against the English, stationed at Linthaughlee, near Jedburgh. He was resting, himself and his men after the toils of many days fighting-marches through Teviotdale; and, according to his custom, had walked round the tents, previous to retiring to the unquiet rest of a soldier's bed. He stood for a few minutes at the entrance to his tent contemplating the scene before him, rendered more interesting by a clear moon, whose silver beams fell, in the silence of a night without a breath of wind, calmly on the slumbers of mortals destined to mix in the melee of dreadful war, perhaps on the morrow. As he stood gazing, irresolute whether to retire to rest or indulge longer in a train of thought not very suitable to a warrior who delighted in the spirit-stirring scenes of his profession, his eye was attracted by the figure of an old woman, who approached him with a trembling step, leaning on a staff, and holding in her left hand three English cloth-shaft arrows.

"You are he who is ca'ed the guid Sir James?" said the old woman.

"I am, good woman," replied Sir James. "Why hast thou wandered from the sutler's camp?"

"I dinna belang to the camp o' the hoblers," answered the woman. "I hae been a residenter in Linthaughlee since the day when King Alexander passed the door o' my cottage wi' his bonny French bride, wha was terrified awa' frae Jedburgh by the death's-head whilk appeared to her on the day o' her marriage. What I hae suffered sin' that day" (looking at the arrows in her hand) "lies between me an heaven."

"Some of your sons have been killed in the wars, I presume?" said Sir James.

"Ye hae guessed a pairt o' my waes," replied the woman. "That arrow" (holding out one of the three) "carries on its point the bluid o' my first born; that is stained wi' the stream that poured frae the heart o' my second; and that is red wi' the gore in which my youngest weltered, as he gae up the life that made me childless. They were a' shot by English hands, in different armies, in different battles. I am an honest woman, and wish to return to the English what belongs to the English; but that in the same fashion in which they were sent. The Black Douglas has the strongest arm an' the surest ee in auld Scotland; an' wha can execute my commission better than he?"
"I do not use the bow, good woman," replied Sir James. "I love the grasp of the dagger or the battle-axe. You must apply to some other individual to return your arrows."

"I canna tak' them hame again," said the woman, laying them down at the feet of Sir James. "Ye'll see me again on St. James' E'en."

The old woman departed as she said these words.

Sir James took up the arrows, and placed them in an empty quiver that lay amongst his baggage. He retired to rest, but not to sleep. The figure of the old woman and her strange request occupied his thoughts, and produced trains of meditation which ended in nothing but restlessness and disquietude. Getting up at daybreak, he met a messenger at the entrance of his tent, who informed him that Sir Thomas de Richmont, with a force of ten thousand men, had crossed the Borders, and would pass through a narrow defile, which he mentioned, where he could be attacked with great advantage. Sir James gave instant orders to march to the spot; and, with that genius for scheming, for which he was so remarkable, commanded his men to twist together the young birch-trees on either side of the passage to prevent the escape of the enemy. This finished, he concealed his archers in a hollow way, near the gorge of the pass.

The enemy came on; and when their ranks were embarrassed by the narrowness of the road, and it was impossible for the cavalry to act with effect, Sir James rushed upon them at the head of his horsemen; and the archers, suddenly discovering themselves, poured in a flight of arrows on the confused soldiers, and put the whole army to flight. In the heat of the onset, Douglas killed Sir Thomas de Richmont with his dagger.

Not long after this, Edmund de Cailon, a knight of Gascony, and Governor of Berwick, who had been heard to vaunt that he had sought the famous Black Knight, but could not find him, was returning to England, loaded with plunder, the fruit of an inroad on Teviotdale. Sir James thought it a pity that a Gascon's vaunt should be heard unpunished in Scotland, and made long forced marches to satisfy the desire of the foreign knight, by giving him a sight of the dark countenance he had made a subject of reproach. He soon succeeded in gratifying both himself and the Gascon. Coming up in his terrible manner, he called to Cailon to stop, and, before he proceeded into England, receive the respects of the Black Knight he had come to find, but hitherto had not met. The Gascon's vaunt was now changed; but shame supplied the place of courage, and he ordered his men to receive Douglas's attack. Sir James assiduously sought his enemy. He at last succeeded; and a single combat ensued, of a most desperate character. But who ever escaped the arm of Douglas when fairly opposed to him in single conflict? Cailon was killed; he had met the Black Knight at last.

"So much," cried Sir James, "for the vaunt of a Gascon!"

Similar in every respect to the fate of Cailon, was that of Sir Ralph Neville. He, too, on hearing the great fame of Douglas's prowess, from some of Gallon's fugitive soldiers, openly boasted that he would fight with the Scottish Knight, if he would come and show his banner before Berwick. Sir James heard the boast and rejoiced in it. He marched to that town, and caused his men to ravage the country in front of the battlements, and burn the villages. Neville left Berwick with a strong body of men; and, stationing himself on a high ground, waited till the rest of the Scots should disperse to plunder; but Douglas called in his detachment and attacked the knight. After a desperate conflict, in which many were slain, Douglas, as was his custom, succeeded in bringing the leader to a personal encounter, and the skill of the Scottish knight was again successful. Neville was slain, and his men utterly discomfited.

Having retired one night to his tent to take some rest after so much pain and toil, Sir James Douglas was surprised by the reappearance of the old woman whom he had seen at Linthaughlee.

"This is the feast o' St. James," said she, as she approached him. "I said I would see ye again this nicht, an' I'm as guid's my word. Hae ye returned the arrows I left wi' ye to the English wha sent them to the hearts o' my sons?"

"No," replied Sir James. "I told ye I did not fight with the bow. Wherefore do ye importune me thus?"

"Give me back the arrows then," said the woman.

Sir James went to bring the quiver in which he had placed them. On taking them out, he was surprised to find that they were all broken through the middle.

"How has this happened?" said he. "I put these arrows in this quiver entire, and now they are broken."

"The weird is fulfilled!" cried the old woman, laughing eldrichly, and clapping her hands."That broken shaft cam' frae a soldier o' Richmont's; that frae ane o' Cailon's, and that frae ane o' Neville's. They are a' dead, an' I am revenged!"

The old woman then departed, scattering, as she went, the broken fragments of the arrows on the floor of the tent.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on October 22, 2008, 08:58:21 AM
Redcaps

A Red Cap or Redcap, also known as a powrie or dunter, is a type of malevolent murderous dwarf, goblin, elf or fairy found in Border Folklore. They inhabit ruined castles found along the border between England and Scotland. Redcaps are said to murder travelers who stray into their homes and dye their hats with their victims' blood (from which they get their name). It is said, redcaps must kill regularly, for if the blood staining their hats dries out, they die. Redcaps are very fast in spite of the heavy iron pikes they wield and the iron-shod boots they wear. Outrunning the buck-toothed faeries is supposedly impossible; the only way to escape one is to quote a passage from the Bible. They lose a tooth on hearing it, which they leave behind.

The most infamous redcap of all was Robin Redcap. As the familiar of Lord William de Soulis, Robin wreaked much harm and ruin in the lands of his master's dwelling, Hermitage Castle. Men were murdered, women cruelly abused, and dark arts were practised. So much infamy and blasphemy was said to have been committed at Hermitage Castle that the great stone keep was thought to be sinking under a great weight of sin, as though the very ground wanted to hide it from the sight of God.

Yet Soulis, for all the evil he wrought, met a very horrible end: he was taken to the Nine Stane Rigg, a circle of stones hard by the castle, and there he was wrapped in lead and boiled to death in a great cauldron.

The boiling to death end of Lord Soulis by his infuriated vassals is only Scottish folklore. In reality William De Soulis was imprisoned in Dumbarton castle and died there, following his confessed complicity in the conspiracy against Robert the Bruce in 1320.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Donna on October 22, 2008, 12:44:51 PM
Stu,
Now give us something about the Brownies!  I understand they were known to help with the chores.   Are there any other Scottish wee folk with a more benevolent nature?

Donna
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on October 23, 2008, 05:18:24 AM
Just for you Donna... There seem to be some differences of opinion regarding their nature.

The Brownies

From Wikipedia...
A brownie/brounie or urisk (Lowland Scots) or brùnaidh, ùruisg, or gruagach (Scottish Gaelic) is a legendary kind of creature popular in folklore around Scotland and England (especially the north, though more commonly hobs have this role). It is the Scottish and Northern English counterpart of the Scandinavian tomte, the Slavic domovoi or the German Heinzelmännchen.

Customarily brownies are said to inhabit houses and aid in tasks around the house. However, they don't like to be seen and will only work at night, traditionally in exchange for small gifts or food. They take quite a delight in porridge and honey. They usually abandon the house if their gifts are called payments, or if the owners of the house misuse them. Brownies make their homes in an unused part of the house. They were also known as the guardians of dragons.

The ùruisg had the qualities of man and spirit curiously commingled. He had a peculiar fondness for solitude at certain seasons of the year. About the end of Harvest he became more sociable, and hovered about farmyards, stables and cattle-houses. He had a particular fondness for the products of the dairy, and was a fearful intruder on milkmaids, who made regular libations of milk or cream to charm him off, or to procure his favour. He could be seen supposedly only by those who had the second sight, though instances where he made himself visible to people not so Gifted have been rumoured. He is said to have been a jolly personable being with a broad blue bonnet, flowing yellow hair, and a long walking staff.

Every manor house had its ùruisg, and in the kitchen, close by the fire was a seat, which was left unoccupied for him. The house of a proprietor on the banks of the River Tay was even at the beginning of the twentieth century believed to have been haunted by this sprite, and a particular apartment therein has been for centuries called "Seòmar Bhrùnaidh" (Brownie’s room). When irritated through neglect or disrespectful treatment he would not hesitate to become wantonly mischievous. He was notwithstanding, rather gainly and good-natured rather than formidable. Though, on the whole, a lazy, lounging hobgoblin, he would often bestir himself on behalf of those who understood his humours, and suited themselves thereto. When in this mood, he was known to perform many arduous exploits in kitchen, barn and stable, with marvellous precision and rapidity. These kind turns were done without bribe, fee or reward, for the offer of any one of these would banish him forever. Kind treatment was all he ever wished for, and it never failed to procure his favour.

In 1703, John Brand wrote in his description of Zetland that:

“Not above forty or fifty years ago, every family had a brownie, or evil spirit, so called, which served them, to which they gave a sacrifice for his service; as when they churned their milk, they took a part thereof, and sprinkled every corner of the house with it, for Brownie’s use; likewise, when they brewed, they had a stone which they called ‘Brownie’s stane’, wherein there was a little hole into which they poured some wort for a sacrifice to Brownie. They also had some stacks of corn, which they called Brownie’s Stacks, which, though they were not bound with straw ropes, or in any way fenced as other stacks used to be, yet the greatest storm of wind was not able to blow away straw off them.”
The brownies seldom discoursed with man, but they held frequent and affectionate converse with one another. They had their general assemblies too, and on those occasions they commonly selected for their rendezvous the rocky recesses of some remote torrent, whence their loud voices, mingling with the water’s roar, carried to the ears of some wondering superstition detached parts of their unearthly colloquies. In a certain district of the Scottish Highlands, "Peallaidh an Spùit" (Peallaidh of the Spout), "Stochdail a’ Chùirt", and "Brùnaidh an Easain" (Brownie of the little waterfall) were names of note at those congresses, and they still live in legends which continue to amuse old age and infancy. Every stream in Breadalbane had an ùruisg once according to Watson the Scottish place name expert, and their king was Peallaidh. (Peallaidh's name is preserved in "Obair Pheallaidh", known in English as "Aberfeldy".) It may be the case, that ùruisg was conflated with some water sprite, or that ùruisg were originally water sprites conflated with brownies.

British folklore also included a figure, Billy Blind, much like the brownie, but appearing only in ballads.


From Compass Rose...
The Scottish Brownie formed a class of being distinct in habit and disposition from the freakish and mischievous elves. He was meagre, shaggy, and wild in his appearance. Thus Cleland, in his satire against the Highlanders, compares them to
    “Faunes, or Brownies, if ye will,
    Or Satyres come from Atlas Hill.”
In the day-time he lurked in remote recesses of the old houses which he delighted to haunt, and in the night sedulously employed himself in discharging any laborious task which he thought might be acceptable to the family to whose service he had devoted himself. But the Brownie does not drudge from the hope of recompense. On the contrary, so delicate is his attachment that the offer of reward, but particularly of food, infallibly occasions his disappearance for ever. It is told of a Brownie, who haunted a border family now extinct, that the lady having fallen unexpectedly ill, and the servant, who was ordered to ride to Jedburgh for the sage-femme, showing no great alertness in setting out, the familiar spirit slipped on the greatcoat of the lingering domestic, rode to the town on the laird’s best horse, and returned with the midwife en croupe. During the short space of his absence, the Tweed, which they must necessarily ford, rose to a dangerous height. Brownie, who transported his charge with all the rapidity of the ghostly lover of Lenore, was not to be stopped by the obstacle. He plunged in with the terrified old lady, and landed her in safety where her services were wanted. Having put the horse into the stable (where it was afterwards found in a woful plight), he proceeded to the room of the servant, whose duty he had discharged, and finding him just in the act of drawing on his boots, he administered to him a most merciless drubbing with his own horsewhip. Such an important service excited the gratitude of the laird, who, understanding that Brownie had been heard to express a wish to have a green coat, ordered a vestment of the colour to be made, and left in his haunts. Brownie took away the green coat, but was never seen more. We may suppose that, tired of his domestic drudgery, he went in his new livery to join the fairies.
The last Brownie known in Ettrick Forest resided in Bodsbeck, a wild and solitary spot, near the head of Moffat Water, where he exercised his functions undisturbed, till the scrupulous devotion of an old lady induced her to “hire him away,” as it was termed, by placing in his haunt a porringer of milk and a piece of money. After receiving this hint to depart, he was heard the whole night to howl and cry, “Farewell to bonnie Bodsbeck!” which he was compelled to abandon for ever.


From Mysterious Britain...
A widespread name for a fairy or supernatural creature, they were small in appearance and wore brown coloured clothing.

Like many mischievous spirits they were thought to be attached to houses or families and could be helpful in menial household tasks. If offended they became malignant and mischievous, creating poltergeist activity and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

To get rid of brownies all you had to do is leave them a new cloak and hood, they would take it and never be seen again.

The brownies were found in both England and Scotland as far as the Shetland Isles.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on October 24, 2008, 10:09:36 AM
Merrow
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia


Merrow (from Gaelic murúch) or Murrough (Galloway) is the Scottish and Irish Gaelic equivalent of the mermaid and mermen of other cultures. These beings are said to appear as human from the waist up but have the body of a fish from the waist down. They have a gentle, modest, affectionate and benevolent disposition.

There are other names pertaining to them in Gaelic: Muir-gheilt, Samhghubha, Muidhuachán, and Suire. They would seem to have been around for millennia because according to the bardic chroniclers, when the Milesians first landed on Irish shores the Suire, or sea-nymphs, played around them on their passage.

The merrow were capable of attachment to human beings and there are reports of them inter-marrying and living among humans for many years. However, most times they eventually return to their former homes beneath the sea.

Merrow-maidens are reputed to lure young men to follow them beneath the waves where afterwards they live in an enchanted state. Merrows wear a special hat called a cohuleen druith which enables them to dive beneath the waves. If they lose this cap, it is said they have no power to return beneath the water. Sometimes they are said to leave their outer skins behind, to assume others more magical and beautiful. The merrow has soft white webs between her fingers, she is often seen with a comb parting her long green hair on either side. Merrow music is often heard coming from beneath the waves.

An old tract found in the Book of Lecain states that a king of the Fomorians, when sailing over the Ictean sea, had been enchanted by the music of mermaids until he came within reach of these sirens .... then they tore his limbs asunder and scattered them on the sea. From Dr. O'Donovan's Annals of the Four Masters - entered in the year 887 A.D. there is a curious tale of a mermaid cast on the Scottish coast - Alba - She was 195 feet (59 m) in length and had hair 18 feet (5.5 m) long, her fingers were 7 feet (2.1 m) long as was her nose, while she was as white as a swan.

Most of the stories are about female beings; however, there are some about mer-men who capture the souls of drowned sailors and keep them in soul cages under the sea.[2] Female Merrows were considered very beautiful, but the mermen were basically ugly, another reason why Merrow women sought out human men. In most cases, the female Merrow had a cap or cape, normally red, and if a human could capture and hide either so the Merrow never found it, then she would remain on land without a fuss. But if the Merrow should ever find her cap or cape, she would feel compelled to return forever to the ocean, leaving entire families behind.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Donna on October 24, 2008, 11:59:38 PM
Hey Stu,
This is great stuff! I appreciate all the time you devote to the Legends, stories, and poems... not to mention the jokes!

Thanks!

Donna
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on October 27, 2008, 10:34:53 AM


The Magic Herring

There is an interesting legend told of the device by
which shoals of herring were first induced to come into
Loch Broom. It seems that long ago the lochs round the island of Lewis were invariably, at the herring season, visited by magnificent shoals of fish, while not a tail was ever seen to twinkle in the spacious waters of Loch Broom. Abundance on one side of the Minch, destitution (for no earthly or apparent reason) on the other! After mature consideration, the dwellers by Loch Broom came to the conclusion that the anomaly could only be explained by the malignant operation of the Lews witches.

Query : How best neutralise the spells of these witches? A remedy, both unique and effective, was at length devised. A silver herring was made and given into the hands of a sturdy crew, who set sail with it over the water to Lewis. On arriving there, the men partook of an adequate amount of refreshment, let down the silver fish (attached to a cord) among the jostling shoals in one of the lochs, and then, with the metallic animal trailing in the sea behind them, they turned the prow of the boat in the direction of home.

The ruse was successful beyond all belief: glimmering clouds of phosphorence followed through the seas below in the wake of the boat and its silver lure. Under the stars of night, in all the rapture of excitement and success, the Loch Broom fishers led the droves of herring right up to the farthest reach of their loch. The metallic herring was then allowed to sink to the bottom : there it remains, and so long as it is there, an abundant harvest of the deep will be the portion of the resourceful toilers of these shores. Perhaps I ought to mention that the famous boat which did the feat was painted black on one side and red on the other.

The prosperity of Ullapool is not as high as it was. Can it be that the Lews witches are at their old tricks again? Or has the silver herring been borne, by the wash of retreating surges, out into the Hebridean deep?

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on October 30, 2008, 10:04:40 PM
Thank you Stu for the jokes, poems, myths and legends.  I do enjoy them.

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on October 31, 2008, 08:05:04 AM
I had always thought of the Banshee as being Irish but apparently they also inhabited the Highlands...

The Banshee
from "Faerie tales and Folklore of the Scottish Highlands" by Muireall Donald


Perhaps the best known Highland fairy is the banshee. This word is a Gaelic one which means ‘fairy woman’. She is usually seen beside a burn or river washing the bloodstained clothes of those about to die. She is an omen of evil but if anyone who sees her before she sees him gets between her and the water, she may grant him three wishes. She will answer three questions but she asks three questions that must be answered truly. It is said that the Banshee are the ghosts of women who have died in childbirth and must perform their washing task until the natural destined time of their death comes. But the banshees are known for other things besides washing death shrouds.

In a fairy tale called The Banshee and the Kettle, the wraith came every night to the house of a Highland woman who respected the fairies. Each night, the banshee would take away the kettle with its remnant of soup, which hung over the hearth. The good wife did not begrudge the food to the fairies, however she always repeated a charm over the kettle when her family was through eating. The next morning, the kettle would be hanging in its customary place, full of magical meat scraps for the next meal. The farmer husband of the good wife enjoyed this bounty, for it meant his own cattle could grow fat for market day. One day the good wife had to journey to the town. She left instructions for her husband to stir the pot, recite the charm, and to respectfully allow the banshee entrance to the house.

Unlike my husband, this man was not much interested in kitchen affairs. When the banshee came screeching at the door, the farmer ran screaming out the window, forgetting rhyme and reason in his haste to get away from the death head. Offended at his lack of respect, the banshee took the kettle anyway, muttering under her breath at the ill reception he had given her. When his wife returned home, she found her hearth bare and her soup spilled over the stones. She went straightaway to the fairy brogh (hill) nearby and bending over to peer inside the entrance, she found her kettle. She picked it up and started home. But two large black dogs followed her, snapping and growling at her heels. One by one, the good wife took the meat scraps from out the kettle and threw them to the fairy dogs. By the time she returned home, the kettle was empty. Never again did the banshee return and from that day on, the inhospitable farmer was forced to slaughter his own cattle to make soup meat.

 

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Donna on November 03, 2008, 10:57:33 AM
Hey Stu,
I love reading the stories you post!

Donna
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on November 05, 2008, 12:51:59 PM
The odd tale of Alexander Jones...

ALEXANDER JONES.
"JEAN, sit a wee bit east," requested the town-clerk, between the puffs of his pipe, as he sat on the corner of the bench before his fire one chilly evening. "You're taking ower muckle room, and mair than your share o' the settle."

But Jean, his wife, had just got her knitting into a nasty tangle, and was not in the best of humours, so declined to move one inch, or to attend to what her husband was saying.

"Jean," said her husband again, "sit a wee bit east; it's no decent to sit sae selfish. Sit a bit east, d'ye hear?" and the town-clerk gave his wife a rude shove to her end of the bench.

"Wha' d'ye mean by that? and wha' d'ye mean by east?" cried his wife. "There's nae sic thing as east to begin with, and--"

"Nae sic thing as east?" shouted the town-clerk. "Will ye no' believe the sun himself?" and then in a loud voice he declaimed that, as the sun went round the earth every day, and was always rising every moment somewhere in the east, which thing he hoped no one was fool enough to deny, everywhere was the east, all over the place; and if there was anything ridiculous, it was to talk about west. If everywhere was east, there was nowhere where west could be. So he hoped his wife would not make a goose of herself, and talk nonsense.

But then his wife got up and said he did not look at it in the right way at all. On the contrary, the sun was all the day setting somewhere in the west, which thing she hoped no one was fool enough to contradict; and as he was always setting somewhere, and doing it every moment, everywhere was west, and if everywhere was west, there was no room for east to be anywhere. So she trusted her husband would not make an ass of himself, and mention east again.

But he shook his head, just like a dog that has been bitten behind the ear, and was going to reply, when she kilted her petticoats, and ran round the room in one direction to show how it was done, crying, "West, west, west!"

This made the town-clerk very angry, and he got tip also, and hitched his trousers, and ran round the table in the opposite direction, yelling out, "East, east, east!" to show how he thought it was done.

Yet it only ended by their getting very giddy, and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt very much, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.

But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner, and said nothing.

Still, they agreed in one thing, namely, that the question was of too deep importance to rest there. So they went to the grocer, who had a good-sized house up the street, and told him all about the thing, with the ins and outs of the question; and the grocer and the grocer's wife, and the grocer's maiden aunt by marriage on the mother's side, and the grocer's wife's youngest married sister, and the grocer's wife's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another, and they ran round the table, some this way and some that, to explain how in their opinion it was done. It only ended in their getting very giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.

But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner all the time, and said nothing.

Still, they agreed in one thing, that the question. was of too deep importance to rest there. So the whole lot went to the innkeeper, who had a much larger house than the grocer, down the street, and told him all about the thing, with the ins and outs of the matter; and the innkeeper, and the innkeeper's wife, and the innkeeper's maiden a-Lint by marriage on the mother's side, and the innkeeper's wife's youngest married sister, and the innkeeper's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another, and they ran round the table, some this way and some that, to explain how in their opinion it was done. And it only ended by their all getting very giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.

But Alexander Jones sat all the time quiet in the corner, and said nothing.

Still, they agreed in one thing., that the question was of too deep importance to rest there. So the whole lot went to the chief magistrate, who had the very largest house in the burgh, in the middle of the street by the market-place, and they told him all about the thing, and the ins and outs of the matter; and the magistrate, and the magistrate's wife, and the magistrate's maiden aunt by marriage on the mother's side, and the magistrate's wife's youngest married sister, and the magistrate's wife's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested in the matter, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another, and they ran round the magistrate's table, some this way and some that, to explain how in their opinion it was done; and it only ended by their all getting very giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.

But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner, and said nothing.

Still, they agreed in one thing, that the question was of too deep importance to rest there. So the magistrate called a meeting of the whole populace in the town-hall.

And when the populace came to the town-hall, the chief magistrate told them all about it, and the ins and outs of the matter; and the populace, and the populace's wife, and the populace's maiden aunt by marriage on the mother's side, and the populace's wife's youngest married sister, and the populace's wife's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another.

And they all wanted then to run round a table to explain how each thought it was done; but here a difficulty arose, for, alas! there was no table in the town-hall to run round, and what then were they to do? Yet they were not going to be balked for a trifle like that, not they? So they requested the chief magistrate to stand in the middle, and let them all run round him in the direction it pleased them.

But the chief magistrate objected strongly, for he said it would make him worse than giddy to see some folk going one way round him and some going the other; indeed, it would be certain to make him sick. So he suggested instead that Alexander Jones should be placed in the middle. Yes, why could they not run round him? Better make use of him, he was so stupid, and said nothing; besides, the chief magistrate wanted to run round with the best of them himself, and why should he be cut out more than any one else?

"No, no," cried they all. "Alexander Jones is too small, and would be certain to be trod upon." It would not do at all, and the chief magistrate must really do what he was asked. Hadn't they, only the other day, given him an imitation gold badge to wear on his stom-----well, never mind--and he must do something for them in return, or they'd take it away, that they would.

So the poor man had to give in, but he insisted upon having his eyes bandaged, and also on having a good chair to sit in, otherwise he knew he would be sick; of that he felt certain.

Then they bandaged his eyes with an old dishclout they got from somewhere; for a handkerchief would not go round his face, he had such a very big nose; and, having seated him in a chair, they all ran round him in a circle, some this way, some another; but they all only got very giddy and banged each other's heads, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or to the solving of the difficulty; and, worse than all, just at the end, when they could run no longer, and were quite out of breath, Eliza M'Diarmed, the fat widow who kept the confectionery-shop fell plump against the chief magistrate, and sent him and his chair flying all along the floor.

But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner, and said nothing.

Then the chief magistrate pulled the bandage off his eyes in a towering passion, and said something must and should be settled there and then. No, he would stand it no longer. He threatened, also, if they did not agree, he would put a tax on buttons; which was rather clever of him, for you see, both sexes would feel that tax equally, and he, inasmuch as his robes were all fastened by a buckle at his neck, and a jewelled girdle round his stom----well, never mind--it would not affect him at all.

At this the town-clerk rose, and said they must, in that case, devise some other way of discovering the answer to this terrible riddle, and he proposed to call in from the street Peter the road-man, for he was up and about at all hours, late and early, and would know more than most about the sun's movements; only, if they asked him, they must ask also his one-eyed sister, Jessica--she, you must know, took in the chief magistrate's washing, and so was a person of importance in the burgh--for Peter would certainly decline to come in unless she came with him.

Now this was, indeed, most provoking for me. Because, you see, there was not another square inch of room left in the town-hall for another person, and two people would have to go out to let Peter the road-man and his sister Jessica come in.

So they turned me out for one, as being a stranger from the country, only asked there in courtesy; and Alexander Jones for the other, because he was so stupid, and said nothing.

Thus, you see, I never knew what decision the meeting came to, though I am certain it did come to some, as next morning people's clothes were still worn as usual, and buttons were at the same price in the shops as before.

And, though disappointed greatly for my own sake, I am still more for yours, my friends, who I must say have listened to this long story most patiently.

But why was Alexander Jones so stupid as to sit still in the corner and say nothing?

Oh! hush, hush now! how silly you are! Why, how on earth could he do anything else?

Alexander Jones was the town-clerk's TOM CAT.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on November 06, 2008, 07:42:59 AM
The Story of Puirt a Beul

Once in the Land Under Wave there lived a king who had a daughter of great beauty. The king was loved by all his people but this was nothing compared to the love they had for the Princess who inspired them so. Her presence made a glow under the sea like the glow of the sun. She had a most beautiful singing voice, far beyond any music that came from any of the musicians' instruments, skilled as they were in that land.

She had many suitors, but none interested her until the Prince of Lochlann arrived, wooed her and won her love. When the day of the wedding was fixed there was both rejoicing and sorrow on the people, for she was going away to leave them.

The Princess was full of joy, and she opened her lips to sing. The tunes she sang had no words to them, they were tunes of the music known as Puirt a Beul - Mouth Music. They woke all the echoes in the Land under Wave and they woke all the courtiers, who began to dance. The fishes began to leap for joy and even the birds above the waves skimmed the surface of the waters, listening to that joyous music. Then they soared high into the sunshine, for they too had heard the magic music of the daughter of the king of the Land Under Wave. The echoes carried her music far, far away, and spread it as the ripples spread on the surface of a still pool into which a pebble has been dropped.

Away in Western Argyll there lived a fierce old giant named Fionn, who that morning was sitting by a loch, washing his feet. The echoes of that joyous sound reached him from the Land under Wave, and he lifted his head to listen. He grunted and growled, but in spite of himself his feet began twitching in the water in time to the music. Then he rose up and his whole body began to dance and sway, and the waves rose high with his swaying and broke on the island shores. Then Fionn, the fierce giant, danced as no-one had ever dreamed he would, and jumped, laughing, until one great leap took him right over the Cuillins of Skye. And still the king's daughter sang.

Next Fionn leapt over the Cuillins of Rhum and landed in "Cuan Siar," the Western sea, in a spot to this day called "the spot where Fionn washed his feet". And still the king's daughter went on singing, and Fionn continued to dance, but now he was beginning to grow tired. Evening fell and he was dancing feebly now, so that by night time the great giant Fionn collapsed, lay down in the sea and was drowned.

And there was great rejoicing all through the isles, for Fionn had harassed them for so long.

And since that time the islanders have kept the memory of the wonderful singing of the daughter of the king of the Land Under Wave.


 
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on November 06, 2008, 09:32:25 PM
That was a lovely story Stu. Thank you, I love these tales of old.

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on November 07, 2008, 09:34:03 AM
The Legend of the Brahan Seer

Most of what we know about the Brahan Seer derives from the oral tradition of the Gael. According to one source Kenneth Mackenzie (also known as Coinneach Odhar, dun-coloured Kenneth) was born in Baile - na - Gille in Uig on the Isle of Lewis about 1650. He lived at Loch Ussie near Dingwall in Ross-shire and worked as a labourer from about 1675 on the Brahan estate, seat of the Seaforth chieftains.

The first literary reference to him comes in Pennant's "A Tour in Scotland" (1769). "Every country has its prophets... and the Highlands their Kenneth Odhar."

The only historical reference so far uncovered exists in the form of two Commissions of Justice, ordering the Ross-shire authorities to prosecute a certain Keanoch Owir for witchcraft (1577).

This reference places him 100 years before the traditional tales (and the time of the third Earl of Seaforth) so cannot be attributed to the same man. This is the first of many mysteries surrounding the Brahan Seer. Of his many predictions handed down by word of mouth, some remain unfulfilled, others doubtfully or partly so. But some have come to pass wholly and convincingly.
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Strathpeffer
The Seer predicted that "Crowds of pleasure and health seekers shall be seen thronging its portals." The popularity of Strathpeffer as a Spa resort reached its height in the Victorian era. In the 1960's the Beatles came to Dingwall, but there was a larger audience for the band playing in the Strathpeffer Pavilion, with people coming from as far as Elgin. The Ross-shire Journal recorded Strathpeffer as being a boom-town with the shops open until 11.00 p.m.!
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The Eagle Stone
Through the centuries this stone has gathered a host of legends. It was said to have been put up by the Munros after a battle with the Mackenzies and is inscribed with their crest, the Eagle, in memory of the slain. It is now thought to be of far greater antiquity, inscribed with Pictish symbols similar to the stone that stands in the St Clement's churchyard in Dingwall.
 
The Seer said that if the stone fell down three times Loch Ussie would flood the valley below so that ships could sail to Strathpeffer. It has already fallen twice, and is now concreted to ensure stability.
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Loch Ussie
Legend has it that the Brahan Seer lived near Loch Ussie; where he was apprehended. Before being taken to Fortrose on the Black Isle to be tried for witchcraft, he threw his oracle stone into the loch and said it would one day be found in the belly of a fish. So far as is known it has not yet turned up.
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Brahan Castle
The Brahan estate, where the Seer worked as a labourer for the Third Earl of Seaforth is central to his final and most famous prophecies about the extinction of the Seaforth line.
 
The gardens at Brahan are open to the public in June when the rhododendrons and azaleas are at their best. Brahan Castle itself was demolished in 1951 but the foundations can be clearly seen in front of the present Brahan House. The Seer predicted that "No future chief of the Mackenzies shall bear rule at Brahan or Kintail." The 14 000 acre estate of Kintail is now owned by the National Trust for Scotland.
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Kilcoy Castle
Kilcoy Castle belonged to the Mackenzies for nearly 300 years until 1813. The Seer predicted that "The stern castle of Kilcoy shall stand cold and empty"; which it did for more than 100 years until its restoration. The gardens are open to the public in summer.
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Fairburn Tower
Fairburn Tower stands high on a ridge between the Orrin and Conon river valleys and dates from the 16th century. The Seer prophesied remarkable things about the Mackenzies of Fairburn and the Tower. "The day will come when the Mackenzies of Fairburn shall lose their entire possessions; their castle will become uninhabited and a cow shall give birth to a calf in the uppermost chamber of the tower."

The castle eventually became a ruin and in 1851, when a cow calved in the garret, it was being used by a farmer to store hay. The prophecy was so well known that people came via railway to Strathpeffer or Muir-of-Ord and then by coach to see the cow. She had gone up the tower following a trail of hay, had a good feed at the top and became stuck. She gave birth to a fine calf and both were taken down some five days later, allowing enough time for the incredulous to come and see the prophecy fulfilled for themselves.

Such an odd thing for the Brahan Seer to have predicted, sceptics say that he could have second guessed the Caledonian Canal but surely not this.
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The Mackenzie Monument
One mile west of Brahan House by the Dingwall - Ullapool road (A835) is the monument to Lady Caroline Mackenzie. It represents the final prediction relating to the fall of the Seaforths. After foretelling the end of the male line (the last Lord Seaforth died after his four sons) the estates went to his eldest daughter. She had married Admiral Hood and spent many years stationed in the East Indies. When the Admiral died, Lady Mary Hood, (Later to become Lady Stewart-Mackenzie) returned wearing the traditional Indian white Coife of mourning. In 1823 Lady Hood was in control of a pony carriage near Brahan accompanied by her sister, Lady Caroline Mackenzie. The ponies bolted and the carriage overturned. Lady Caroline Mackenzie was thrown out and died of her injuries. In the 17th century the Brahan Seer's final comment on the house of Seaforth had been that Lord Seaforth's possessions would be "Inherited by a white-coiffed lassie from the east and she is to kill her sister."

The Latin inscription on the monument translates as follows:-

"At this point, according to the prophecy, Caroline Mackenzie, daughter of Francis, Lord Seaforth, was snatched from life: her sister who shared the same hazard was the last surviving hope of restoration of his house. 1823."
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The Execution

When Isabella, wife of the third Earl of Seaforth asked the Brahan Seer for news of her husband who was away in Paris, he envisaged the man's infidelities with a Frenchwoman. He assured the Countess her husband was well but she demanded more detail until, exasperated beyond measure, the Seer informed her of what he saw.

This earned the oracle the traditional reward for the bearer of bad tidings - execution by being pitched alive into a barrel of boiling tar at Chanonry Point. Before the inevitable he threw his stone into Loch Ussie and foretold of the extinction of the Seaforth line.

Right, The inscription reads:-
"This stone commemorates the legend of Coinneach Odhar better known as the BRAHAN SEER - Many of his prophecies were fulfilled and tradition holds that his untimely death by burning in tar followed his final prophecy of the doom of the House of Seaforth.

Lady Seaforth declared that "Having had so much unhallowed intercourse with unseen world", he would never go to heaven. The Seer replied that he would, but that Isabella would not. He prophesied that upon his death a flying raven and dove will meet mid-air above his ashes and instantly alight. "If the raven be foremost, you have spoken truly; but if the dove, then my hope is well founded."

To the wonder of all beholders of this final prediction, a dove, closely followed by a raven, was the first to alight on the dust of the departed Coinneach Odhar.

Although there are many uncertainties to the life, times and prophecies of Kenneth Mackenzie, Coinneach Odhar, it is without doubt he has come down to us as the Brahan Seer blazing with legend.
 

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on November 09, 2008, 12:15:19 AM
Fascinating Stu, thanks for your wonderful stories, legends and traditions of Scotland.

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on November 13, 2008, 10:46:49 AM
A tale from the fisher folk of the Shetland Islands... lots of Thomsons there according to surname distribution maps from 1881 and 1998.

THOM AND WILLIE.
THOM and Willie, two young fisher-mates of Lunna, in Shetland, were rivals for the hand of the fair Osla, daughter of Jarm. Now it so happened that, one October afternoon, they took their hand-lines and went out fishing together in their boat. Towards dusk the wind rose, and it soon blew so hard as to compel the young men to run for the nearest shelter--a haven in the islet of Linga in Whalsay Sound, which they happily reached in safety. The islet was uninhabited, and the fishermen had with them neither food nor the means of kindling a fire. They had, however, a roof over their heads; for there was a hut, or lodge, on the island,--used by fishermen in the fair weather season, but deserted since the close of that period. For two days the storm raged without ceasing, and at last the situation of the castaways began to grow very serious. However, on the morning of the third day, a little before daybreak, Willie, who was awake before his companion, discovered that the weather had faired, and that the wind blew in a favouring direction. Upon this, without rousing Thom, he proceeded to the boat, which lay safely hauled up upon the shore, and by dint of great exertion managed to launch her single-handed. Meantime Thom had awoke; and, at last, as Willie did not come back, he followed him to the noust, or place where boats are drawn up. And here a sight met his view which filled him with dismay. The yawl had disappeared from her place; but, raising his eyes, he beheld her already far out at sea and speeding before the breeze in the direction of Lunna. At this sight poor Thom gave way to despair. He realised that his comrade had basely and heartlessly deserted him; he knew that it was not likely that the islet would be visited until the fishing-season should have come round again; and he had small hopes of help from any exertions on his behalf which might be made by his friends, seeing that they would be in ignorance where to look for him. Amid melancholy thoughts and forebodings the day passed slowly, and at nightfall he betook himself to his shake-down of straw within the lodge. Darkness closed in, and he slept. But, towards the small hours of the morning, he was suddenly awakened; when great was his astonishment to see that the hut was lighted up with a strange illumination, whilst a queer inhuman hum and chatter, accompanied by the patter of many pairs of little feet and the jingle of gold and silver vessels, smote upon his ear. A fairy banquet was, in fact, in course of preparation in the lodge. Thom raised himself noiselessly upon his elbow, and watched the proceedings. With infinite bustle and clatter, the table was at last laid. Then there entered a party of trows, who bore between them in a chair, or litter, a female fairy, to whom all appeared to pay honour. The company took seats, and the banquet was on the point of commencing, when in a moment the scene of festivity was changed to one of wild alarm and confusion. A moment more, and Thom learnt to his cost the cause of the sudden change. The presence of a human being had been detected, and at a word from their queen the "grey people," swarming together, were about to rush upon the intruder. But in this trying juncture Thom did not lose his presence of mind. His loaded fowling-piece lay by his side, and, as the fairies rushed upon him, he raised it to his shoulder and fired. In an instant the light was extinguished, and all was darkness, silence, and solitude.

Let us now return to the perfidious Willie. Reaching Lunna in safety, he related a tragic tale (which he had invented on the voyage), to account for the absence of his comrade; and, finding that his story was believed, he began anew, without much loss of time, to urge his suit with the fair Osla. Her father, Jarm, regarded him with favour; but the maiden herself turned a deaf ear to all his entreaties. She felt that she could not love him; and, besides, she was haunted by a suspicion that Thom, in whose welfare she felt a tender interest,, had been the victim of foul play. Pressure was, however, put upon her, and in spite of her objections, an early day was fixed for the wedding. The poor girl was in great distress. However, one night, when she had cried herself to sleep, she dreamed a dream, the result of which was that next morning she proceeded to the house of Thom's parents, and begged them to join her in a search for their missing son. This, notwithstanding their love for him, they were somewhat reluctant to do; arguing that, even supposing him to have been abandoned, as she divined, upon one of the rocky islets of the coast, he must ere now have perished from exposure and starvation. But the girl persisted in her entreaties, which at last prevailed. A boat was manned, and by Osla's direction was steered towards Linga, upon approaching which, sure enough, as the girl had predicted, it was discovered that the islet had a human tenant. Thom met his friends on the beach, and when the first eager greetings had passed, surprise was expressed at the freshness and robustness of his appearance. But this surprise increased tenfold when, in recounting his adventures, he explained that, during the latter days of his isolation, he had supported life upon the remains of the scarcely-tasted fairy banquet, adding that never in his life before had he fared so delicately. On their return to Lunna, the party were received with rejoicings; and it is scarcely necessary to add that Thom and Osla were soon made man and wife. From that time forward Willie prospered no more. The loss of his health and fortune followed that of his good name, and he sank ere long into an early and unregretted grave.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on November 14, 2008, 07:26:49 AM
THE LAIRD O' CO'.


In the days of yore, the proprietors of Colzean, in Ayrshire (ancestors
of the Marquis of Ailsa), were known in that country by the title of
Lairds o' Co', a name bestowed on Colzean from some co's (or coves) in
the rock beneath the castle.

One morning, a very little boy, carrying a small wooden can, addressed
the Laird near the castle gate, begging for a little ale for his mother,
who was sick.  The Laird directed him to go to the butler and get his can
filled; so away he went as ordered.  The butler had a barrel of ale on
tap, but about half full, out of which he proceeded to fill the boy's
can; but to his extreme surprise he emptied the cask, and still the
little can was not nearly full.  The butler was unwilling to broach
another barrel, but the little fellow insisted on the fulfilment of the
Laird's order, and a reference was made to the Laird by the butler, who
stated the miraculous capacity of the tiny can, and received instant
orders to fill it if all the ale in the cellar would suffice.  Obedient
to this command, he broached another cask, but had scarcely drawn a drop
when the can was full, and the dwarf departed with expressions of
gratitude.

Some years afterwards the Laird being at the wars in Flanders was taken
prisoner, and for some reason or other (probably as a spy) condemned to
die a felon's death.  The night prior to the day for his execution, being
confined in a dungeon strongly barricaded, the doors suddenly flew open,
and the dwarf reappeared, saying--

   "Laird o' Co',
   Rise an' go."

a summons too welcome to require repetition.

On emerging from prison, the boy caused him to mount on his shoulders,
and in a short time set him down at his own gate, on the very spot where
they had formerly met, saying--

   "Ae gude turn deserves anither--
   Tak' ye that for being sae kin' to my auld mither,"

and vanished.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on November 20, 2008, 11:57:52 AM
A few romantic wedding and courting customs from Scotland!

Prophecies
Although most people married locally, young people learned from an early age how to foretell who their marriage partner would be or what he/she would be like. For example, by paring an apple so that the skin comes off in one length. As the clock strikes twelve, it was swung round the head and thrown over the left shoulder. When it landed it would form the first letter of the name of the future spouse. Also, two nuts were burnt in a fire - if they burnt quietly all would be well, if they exploded and burst, true love would be hard to find.

Bundling
The custom of bundling was found in many parts of the country but was particularly prevalent in Orkney (perhaps because of the long, dark, cold winter nights). The courting couple were encouraged to share a bed - but they were fully clothed and the girl had a bolster cover tied over her legs! The idea was to allow the couple to talk and get to know each other but in the safe (and warm) confines of the girl's house.

Bottom Drawer and Dowries
A bride was expected to have a collection of bed-linen, blankets, table linen and bedroom furnishings to take to her new home. The father was also expected to provide a dowry - perhaps a few cattle or sheep or money. Lairds often went into debt to provide their daughters with a good dowry (especially if it was the dowry which made the girl attractive!)

Leap Year
It is said that in the 11th century Queen Margaret introduced the custom of allowing girls to ask the boy to marry her on 29 February in a leap year. It evolved later that if the boy refused, he had to buy her a dress and kid gloves instead!

Minimum Age
Until 1929, a girl could legally get married at the age of 12 or above and a boy at 14 though marriage at such a young age was extremely rare. In 1929 the age was raised to 16. However, in Scotland no parental consent is required from that age, whereas in England the consent of parents was (and is) required until the age of 18. This resulted in young English couples coming to Scotland if they were unable to get their parents' permission. Since the first town of any size over the Scottish/English border was Gretna Green, this became a frequent place for the marriage to take place. The perpetuation of the tradition of the local blacksmith there carrying out a form of wedding ceremonies added to the romance. There are now over 4,000 weddings a year at Gretna in Scotland's "wedding capital" which has now become a popular tourist attraction even for those not getting married.

Show of Presents
Friends and relatives provided presents to help the intending couple to set up home. There was a "show of presents" when everyone came to see what they had received. This was a particularly West of Scotland/Glasgow custom though in Moray it was also found and there it was called "bucking".

Stag Night and Hen Nights
I'm sure you know all about those! In addition, female office and factory workers leaving to get married were often dressed up with balloons, "L" plates, carried a chamber pot (often with salt inside) and were covered in paper flowers and sometimes carried in a barrow to be paraded through the streets. Passing men were encouraged to kiss the prospective bride in exchange for money dropped into the chamber pot. While still in evidence, this ritual is dying out.

Weddings
"Free" weddings were where the father of the bride paid for all the food and drink. Scots weddings usually continue into the evening with dancing and more alcohol! Penny weddings meant each guest provided some food and drink and these often lasted for more than one day.

Wedding Gowns
The colour white for a wedding dress was introduced by Queen Victoria - prior to that any colour was ok except green (which was associated with the fairies) and black (which was for mourning). The tradition of the bride wearing "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" is still often followed. Traditionally, there were never any knots in ribbons or clothing but these were retied after the wedding - tying the knot.

Scramble
This started as the bride throwing a decorated ball as she left the church. This evolved into the bridegroom throwing coins as he left home and on leaving church. Young boys scrambled to pick them up. The custom is less prevalent now due to the danger of accidents happening as youngsters jostled for the coins.

Rings
The ring on the third finger of the left hand goes back to Roman times but was banned in Scotland after the Reformation in the 16th century as being a Popish relic. But the custom came back again in the 17th century. The wearing of wedding rings by men is a recent innovation.

Wedding Cake
This was once a "bridescake" (a sort of shortbread) baked by the brides mother. A piece was broken over the bride's head - if it broke into small pieces, the marriage would be fruitful. The custom of both bride and groom cutting the cake is recent - it used to be just the bride. Everyone got a piece of cake and also sending a piece of cake to all who had given a present became the norm. When the more modern, fruit-cake covered in icing style of cake came into fashion, it was customary to have small trinkets inside so guests had to watch carefully as they ate!

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Donna on November 20, 2008, 01:51:56 PM
Thanks Stu, this is really interesting

Donna
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on November 21, 2008, 10:52:58 AM
The Story of Major Weir, 1670


Major Weir was the last man executed for witchcraft in Scotland in 1670. He lived with his unmarried sister, Grizel, in the West Bow - a Z-shaped street near Edinburgh Castle, "composed of tall antique houses, with numerous dovecot-like gables projecting over the footway, full of old inscriptions and sculpturings, presenting at every few steps some darkest lateral profundity, into which the imagination wanders without hindrance or exhaustion ..." wrote Robert Chambers in Traditions of Edinburgh.


Major Weir was an active member of a strict Protestant sect, and was frequently seen at prayer meetings. He officiated at such meetings - but always leaning on his black walking staff. Robert Chambers described his end as follows:


"After a life characterized by all the graces of devotion, but polluted in secret by crimes of the most revolting nature, and which little needed the addition of wizardry to excite the horror of living men, Major Weir fell into severe sickness, which affected his mind so much, that he made open voluntary confession of all his wickedness. The tale was at first so incredible, that the provost, Sir Andrew Ramsay, refused for some time to take him into custody. At length himself, his sister (partner in his crimes), and his staff, were secured by the magistrates, together with certain sums of money, which were found wrapped in rags in different parts of the house. One of these pieces of rag being thrown into the fire by a bailie who had taken the whole in charge, flew up the chimney, and made an explosion like a cannon.


While the wretched man lay in prison, he made no scruple to disclose the particulars of his guilt, but refused to address himself to the Almighty for pardon. To every request that he would pray, he answered in screams, "Torment me no more - I am tormented enough already!" Even the offer of a Presbyterian clergyman, instead of the established Episcopal minister of the city, had no effect on him.


He was tried April 9, 1670 and being found guilty, was sentenced to be strangled and burnt between Edinburgh and Leith. His sister, who was tried at the same time, was sentenced to be hanged in the Grassmarket. When the rope was around his neck, to prepare him for the fire, he was bid to say, "Lord, be merciful to me!" but he answered, as before, "let me alone - I will not - I have lived as a beast, and I must die as a beast!"


After he had dropped lifeless in the flames, his stick was also cast into the fire; and 'whatever incantation was in it,' says a contemporary writer, 'the persons present own that it gave rare turnings, and was long a-burning, as also himself.'"

After his death, neighbours claimed that his ghost was seen on many occasions and mysterious noises and lights came at dead of night from his now-unoccupied lodgings.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on November 22, 2008, 07:57:11 PM
Well!  If I had been mistreated so, I would have come back to haunt them too!   >:(

Thanks Stu.

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on November 25, 2008, 10:45:37 AM
The Legend of The Appin Dirk

In the years after the Jacobite uprising of 1745, the terrible reputation of the government troops or 'Redcoats' as they sought to finally put down once and for all the brave highland clans was spread throughout the North of Scotland. One story concerning a poor milkmaid and a wicked redcoat sergeant passed into highland folklore and became known as the story of the Appin Dirk.
It was June 1746, only a few months after the disastrous battle of Culloden, Government troops were still engaged in a frenzy of looting and burning as they carried out Cumberland's order of 'No Quarter' beyond what was expected of them. One such detachment was passing through Lochaber and Appin on their way to the barracks at Inveraray. On the way they had burned small cottages, casting highlanders from their homes for nothing more than their own wicked amusement.

On one particular evening, as the troops moved through the Strath of Appin they encountered a young woman milking her cow in a nearby field. Overcome by their own bloodlust and some even more base instincts besides the sergeant who commanded the detachment leapt over the small wall into the field and with no warning shot the cow dead. With the cow dead he then advanced on the young woman - his intentions almost certainly dishonourable.


The young woman fought off the wicked sergeant bravely and ran off towards the Appin shore however she was pursued by him. In a last desperate attempt to make good her escape she picked up a good sized stone from the shore and hurled it at the sergeant with all her might. Whether by great accuracy or sheer luck the stone struck the sergeant square on the forehead, stunning him and knocking him to the ground. Her good shot gave her the few precious seconds she needed to make it to the shore where she knew a small boat lay moored. As the other soldiers tried to pursue her she managed to quickly row out of range and off to a small island where she sheltered for some time.

The sergeant was less fortunate, the blow had been more serious than the soldiers had at first realised. He was taken to a nearby place where they could stop for the night but as the evening wore on his condition became worse - almost as if the stone itself had been cursed. During the night he died from his wound. The other soldiers decided to bury him in the nearby churchyard; the old churchyard of Airds and move on.

The hatred for the government troops in this corner of Scotland was so great that the local men felt appalled that such a beast should contaminate their churchyard. As soon as the detachment had gone they stole into the churchyard and dug up his body. They carried him down to the sea but were stopped on the way by the brother of the young woman who had been attacked. He pulled out a knife and tore the skin from the arm of the wicked sergeant. This he took away with him. The corpse was then, with no ceremony cast into the sea.

The milkmaid’s brother dried and cured the skin and used it to make a sheath for his dirk.

Legends of the 'Appin Dirk' spread around the area, becoming a symbol of the highlanders continued resistance to occupation. In 1870 the Rev. Alexander Stewart who was in the area was shown a dirk by a local man which he claimed was 'The Appin Dirk' He described the sheath as having a dark-brown colour, limp and soft in appearance, with no ornament except a small piece of brass at the point, and a thin edging of the same metal round the opening. Around the brass rim there was a small inscription. The initials D.M.C. and a date; 1747.

This gruesome relic has long since vanished but the inscription does bear some clue into its possible whereabouts:

According to the story the young woman's name is given as Julia MacColl, the 'M.C.' of the inscription would suggest that this was the case as MacColl was a common name in that area at the time. Some years after the last sighting of the dirk many MacColls immigrated to New Zealand, among them were a few 'Julias'. It is highly possible that the descendants of Julia MacColl of her brother held on to the dirk and that it now lies undiscovered in New Zealand.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on November 25, 2008, 10:39:59 PM
This was a very interesting story Stu, thanks.

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on December 01, 2008, 10:36:21 AM
Boobrie
From Monstropedia - the largest encyclopedia about monsters
 
The boobrie is a mythical giant water bird of Scottish Highlands folklore that is generally only encountered by sailors and passengers at sea.

Origin
The creature is believed to be the metamorphosize form of the each uisge and haunts lochs and salt wells.

Description/Morphology
The Boobrie is a large wading bird that resembles a crane with a slightly hooked beak and clawed webbed feet. It has black plumage, lightening to dark grey, with a bright red beak and legs. It has a distinctive cry that is more raucous than the peacock.

Behavior
These grotesque birds tend to prey on ships carrying livestock. The Boobrie’s hunting strategy usually consists of mimicking the call of a lamb or calf (or whatever animal the vessel is carrying). Should an adult animal then stray over to investigate, the Boobrie would grasp it in its horrid talons, drag it overboard and drown it. Obviously the human mariners would attempt to thwart the Boobrie’s bizarre rustling, however other Boobries may attempt to distract the sailors by assuming the form of horses and running across the surface of the water. Should the Boobrie be denied its quarry it is said to bellow like an angry bull.

Retrieved from "http://www.monstropedia.org/index.php?title=Boobrie"
 
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on December 03, 2008, 06:09:29 AM
I think there must have been some Thom blood is this fiesty lassie!

Jenny Geddes
Throughout history there are incidents that at the time may seem small or even insignificant, the action of a few individuals who would normally be considered mere spectators in the pageant of history. Some obvious incidents come to mind; The Boston Tea Party or the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand both give rise to a 'butterfly effect' theory of world events.
Edinburgh's very own 'madam butterfly' has become a legend in Scotland's history... the infamous Jenny Geddes.

Jenny Geddes (c. 1600 – c. 1660) was a fruit and veg seller who kept a stall outside the Tron Kirk. Not a person that you would imagine as a significant historical character, but on 23rd July 1637 Jenny Geddes was a catalyst that started one of the most infamous riots in Edinburgh's history.

Firstly some background:

The origins of the incident date back to the accession to the throne of King Charles I in 1625. Charles was not a popular monarch north of the border; in particular the rites used in his coronation angered the more puritan post reformation church in Scotland. The Anglican form of worship was very close to Roman Catholicism and it was seen by many as an attempt by King Charles to bring back Catholicism through the back door. His new archbishop of Canterbury William Laud was also very unpopular in Scotland, but undaunted by the rise of feeling against his reforms Charles and his archbishop assembled a commission whose remit was to produce a prayer book suitable for Scotland that would bring it much more into line with the Church of England. In 1637 a new Book of Common Prayer was printed in Edinburgh, and it was to be first used in St Giles' Cathedral on Sunday 23 July 1637.

The stage was set - enter Jenny Geddes

There had been some unrest up to the date of the service so it is arguable that many came into St Giles that day ready for a fight. Ms Geddes took her place, not on one of the pews but among the womenfolk who were required to bring their own stools into the cathedral and use one of the aisles. A very nervous James Hannay, Dean of Edinburgh began to read from the new prescribed service to the sound of unruly murmurings from the congregation.

Jenny geddes sat fuming on her "fald stool" or a "creepie-stool" meaning a folding stool. Finally she had heard enough and stood up and cried; "Deil colic the wame o’ ye, fause thief; daur ye say Mass in my lug?" meaning "Devil cause you severe pain and flatulent distension of your abdomen, false thief: dare you say the Mass in my ear?” And at that she hurled her stool straight at the Dean's head. This sparked a full scale riot in the church. one congregation member who had been heard uttering a response to the liturgy was thumped with bibles. The Dean took cover and the Provost summoned his men to put down the disturbance. The rioters were soon ejected from St Giles and the Bishop of Edinburgh appealed for calm. However this was not going to end quietly, The Presbyterians of 17th Century Scotland would have made the al-Qaida look moderate! Abuse reigned in from the street outside, windows were smashed and the doors looked to be broken down.

The riots continued on that day throughout Edinburgh, The City chambers were laid siege to with the provost now sheltering inside. Eventually they negotiated a 'truce' of sorts. At the suggestion of the Lord Advocate a committee was appointed known as the Tables to negotiate with the Privy Council. Their suggestion of a withdrawal of the offending liturgy was not surprisingly thrown out by King Charles.

This led to even more unrest including the signing of the National Covenant in February 1638. Later that year the bishops and archbishops were formally expelled from the Church of Scotland, which was then established on a full Presbyterian basis. Charles responded in his trademark arrogant manner by instigating the Bishops' Wars which ultimately led to the English Civil War and the execution of Charles and his Archbishop.

  In St Giles Cathedral a monument stands to this unlikely heroine. A bronze 3 legged stool (not the folding stool as described in many accounts) stands to commemorate that day a market trader pawn took the head of a king.

As an aside to the story, around 1787, Robert Burns named his mare after Jenny Geddes in tribute.

 

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on December 05, 2008, 11:49:51 AM
Christmas is coming!

YULETIDE CUSTOMS OF OLD SCOTLAND

Christmas & New Year were equally welcomed by Scots before the Reformation of the 16th-17th centuries. All the customs of both festivals stem from that time.

The name comes from the Scandinavians, for whom 'Yultid' was the festival celebrated at the twelfth month, being the twelfth name of Odin, who was supposed to come to earth in December, disguised in a hooded cloak. He would sit awhile at the firesides listening to the people, and where there was want he left a gift of bread or coins. (Strains of Father Christmas here!)

Christmas was often known as Nollaig Beag , Little Christmas. The custom was to celebrate the Birth of Christ with all solemnity, the festivities began a few days later, and spilled into New Year and Twelfth Night, which was known as 'Little Christmas'. However, the French often called Christmas colloquially, 'Homme est né' (Man is Born) which is thought by some scholars to be the origin of the word, 'Hogmanay', steaming from the time of the 'Auld Alliance'.

The Reformation hit Scotland as hard as everywhere else. By 1583, Bakers who made the Yulebreads were fined, their punishment could be lessened if they gave the names of their customers!

In 1638 the General Assembly in Edinburgh tried to abolish Yuletide.

While the same things were going on south of the border, with the Restoration of the Monarchy came the restoration of Christmas. In Scotland, the rigid laws of the new Kirk still frowned upon Christmas celebration, so it stayed underground. Only the High church and the Catholics kept the old traditions going.

In England many of the symbolisms and earlier religious elements were lost, and it took the intrepid Victorian historians to gather together the remnants and re-establish Christmas, an effort which was helped by the strongly Christmas orientated Royal family with its German Prince Consort. The Reformation in Germany had hardly touched Christmas at all, and Prince Albert brought it all to the public eye.

English custom was not particularly accepted by Scotland. The inherent need to celebrate came out in Scotland as a great revival of the New Year celebrations. In fact, hardly changed at all because Old Christmas comprised three days of solemn Tribune, church services, fasting and hard work. Church on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Followed by a day of Charity on the Feast of Stephen and which we now call Boxing Day. No-one would have thought much about parties and frolics until after these days were over. Then the solemnity gave way to joyous and often rowdy celebration and holiday under the name of 'Homme est né' or Hogmanay.

Being intended by the reformed church, as a day of prayer, the puritanical elements gradually closed in on all those who defied the new laws and continued their festivities. In England soldiers were chosen especially for their noses a long nose was thought to be able to sniff out the spices in the Christmas Baking better! In Scotland the Bakers were encouraged to inform on their customers. In their attempts to stamp out frivolity, they prescribed that Christmas would be a working day. So it became the custom to work over Christmas.

This prevailed throughout the whole of Britain, especially in the working classes. Until 40 years ago postmen, bakers, transport workers, and medical staff were commonly expected to work, but because of the Victorian revival of Christmas in England, many other establishments closed, while in Scotland shops and many offices stayed open.

However, this did not mean that people did not celebrate Christmas. Often they would go to Church before work, or at Lunchtime, or in the evening. They would have a Christmas Tree and a Christmas Dinner and children went to bed expecting that kindly old gentleman to call with a gift or two.

CUSTOMS & BELIEFS ASSOCIATED WITH SCOTTISH CHRISTMAS:

Black Bun. Originally Twelfth Night Cake. It is a very rich fruit cake, almost solid with fruit, almonds, spices and the ingredients are bound together with plenty of Whisky. The stiff mixture is put into a cake tin lined with a rich short pastry and baked.

This takes the place of the even more ancient Sun Cakes. A legacy from Scotland's close associations with Scandinavia. Sun cakes were baked with a hole in the centre and symmetrical lines around, representing the rays of the Sun. This pattern is now found on the modern Scottish Shortbread, and has been misidentified as convenient slices marked onto the shortbread!

Bees leave hives Xmas Morn. There is an old belief that early on Christmas Morning all bees will leave their hives, swarm, and then return. Many old Scots tell tales of having witnessed this happening, though no-one can explain why. One explanation is that bees get curious about their surroundings, and if there is unexpected activity they will want to check it out to see if there is any danger. As people were often up and about on Christmas night observing various traditions, or just returning from the night services, the bees would sense the disturbance and come out to see what was going on.

Divination customs - Ashes, Bull, Cailleach
There are a number of ancient divination customs associated with Scottish Christmas tradition. One involves checking the cold ashes the morning after the Christmas fire. A foot shape facing the door was said to be foretelling a death in the family, while a foot facing into the room meant a new arrival.

Another was the ceremonial burning of Old Winter, the Cailleach. A piece of wood was carved roughly to represent the face of an old woman, then named as the Spirit of Winter, the Cailleach. This was placed onto a good fire to burn away, and all the family gathered had to watch to the end. The burning symbolised the ending of all the bad luck and enmities etc of the old year, with a fresh start.

The Candlemas Bull was in reality a cloud. It was believed that a bull would cross the sky in the form of a cloud, early on the morning on Candlemas, February 2nd. From its appearance people would divine. An East travelling cloud foretold a good year, south meant a poor grain year, but if it faced to the west the year would be poor. This custom was a remnant of the ancient Mithraiac religion, when the Bull-god would come at the start of Spring to warn of the year the farmers could expect.

CANDLELIGHT
All of the Celtic countries have a similar custom of lighting a candle at Christmastime to light the way of a stranger.

In Scotland was the Oidche Choinnle, or Night of Candles. Candles were placed in every window to light the way for the Holy Family on Christmas Eve and First Footers on New Years Eve. Shopkeepers gave their customers Yule Candles as a symbol of goodwill wishing them a 'Fire to warm you by, and a light to guide you'.

FIRST FOOTERS
It was and still is the custom for a stranger to enter the house after midnight on New Years Eve/Day. There were taboos about the luck such a stranger would bring, especially in the days of hospitality to travelling strangers. A fair haired visitor was considered bad luck in most areas, partly due to the in-fighting between the dark scots and the fair Norse invaders. However, in Christian times, a fair haired man was considered very lucky providing his name was Andrew! Because St Andrew is the Patron Saint of Scotland. A woman is considered taboo still in many areas!

The Firstfooter must make an offering, a HANDSEL. This can be food, drink or fuel for the fire. The ritual which have grown up around this custom are many. An offering of food or drink must be accepted by sharing it with everyone present, including the visitor. Fuel, must be placed onto the fire by the visitor with the words 'A Good New Year to one and all and many may you see'. In todays often fireless society the fuel is usually presented as a polished piece of coal, or wood which can be preserved for the year as an ornament.

Sayings eg : Is blianach Nollaid gun sneachd - Christmas without snow is poor fare.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on December 12, 2008, 09:42:41 AM
Something a bit more modern...

Common Riding is an annual event celebrated in Scottish Border towns, to commemorate the times of the past when local men risked their lives in order to protect their town and people.

The Hawick Common-Riding is the first of the Border festivals and celebrates the ancient custom of riding the boundaries of the parish/marches and the capture of an English Flag in 1514. The Common-Riding proper takes place in June on a Friday and Saturday.

The Cornet for the year is elected by the Provost's Council in May. From then until the festival is over the Cornet is an honoured figure in Hawick. The first recorded Cornet was in 1703 and other than the World Wars there has been an unbroken line to the present day.

In the weeks preceding the actual Common-Riding, on each Saturday and Tuesday, the Cornet and his supporters are out on their ride-outs in the course of which they visit surrounding villages and farms. The first of the Cornet's Chases takes place up a hill called the "Nipknowes" where a local caterer is asked to prepare the customary dish of “curds and cream” for refreshment during the actual riding of the marches. This marks the end of the preliminary procedure.

On the Sunday before the Common-Riding the Council attends the Kirkin' o' the Cornet, a church service. In the afternoon the Cornet's Lass with the Lasses of the two previous Cornets travel to the Hornshole Memorial and lay a wreath.

Following Chases on the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday mornings the second major Chase takes place on the Thursday morning when the Cornet carries the Flag for the first time. The Principals visit the local schools where the Cornet asks that the children are given a holiday for the rest of the week. This is of granted and the children and parents join in singing festival songs.

The Colour Bussing, takes place on the Thursday evening in the Town Hall. The Provost and Magistrates are played into a packed Hall by the Drum and Fife Band. Then come the Lasses with the Maids of Honour. The Cornet's Lass carries the Flag to the front of the Hall with her attendants and “busses” the Flag by tying ribbons to the head of the staff. The Flag is given to the Cornet where he is reminding him that it is “the embodiment of all the traditions that are our glorious heritage”. The Cornet is charged to ride the marches of the commonty of Hawick and return the Flag “unsullied and unstained”. The Halberdier then calls on the burgesses to “ride the meiths and marches of the commonty”. Then begins the Cornet's Walk round the town with his supporters.

Early the following morning the Drum and Fife Band set off to rouse the town. At Towerdykeside a ceremony called the Snuffin' is performed, when snuff is dispensed from an old horned mull. Soon the crowd soon disperses to the surrounding pubs for the traditional rum and milk before breakfast, followed by the singing of the “Old Song” at the door of the Tower Hotel, each of the Principals taking it in turn to sing verses.

Following this the Principals, along with upward of 300 followers, mount their horses and process round the town and onto the Nipknowes where the main festival chase takes place concluding in song, toasts and the curds and cream. The riders then set off via Williestruther Loch and Acreknowe Reservoir to ride the marches where the Cornet ceremoniously “Cuts the Sod”. They then make their way to the race-course where, after a programme of horse-racing, the company remounts and proceeds to Millpath where a proclamation is made that the marches have been duly ridden, without interruption or molestation of any kind. This is then followed by more singing and playing of Drums and Fifes and the Flag is returned temporarily to the Council Chambers, where it is displayed. The assembled gathering then eat, sing and dance into the night before seeing in the dawn from the summit of Moat Hill.

On Saturday the town is again roused by the Drum and Fife Band and by 9.30 a.m. they ride to Wilton Lodge Park where the principals lay wreaths of remembrance on the town's War Memorial. The procession then heads for the Moor where horse races are again held.

On the Cornet's return, his official duties end when he ceremoniously returns the Flag to the Provost in the Council Chambers. In the evening there is the Greeting' Dinner - an informal occasion when the company bid farewell to the Left-Hand Man, who as Cornet of two years ago, is wearing his uniform for the last time. Afterwards the guests and principals make their customary tour of the fairground in the Haugh.

Teribus is traditionally sung at many occasions during the festivities.

In March 2007 The Rough Guide tourism book wrote that Hawick Common Riding was one of the best parties in the world. It praises the event, which "combines the thrills of Pamplona's Fiesta de San Fermin with the concentrated drinking of Munich's Oktoberfest".


Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Mary on December 14, 2008, 12:50:55 PM
Quote
We have GOT to go to Scotland and DO this!!!
Something a bit more modern...

Common Riding is an annual event celebrated in Scottish Border towns, to commemorate the times of the past when local men risked their lives in order to protect their town and people.[/quote]

Thanks, Stu!  I want to go NOW!!!
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on December 14, 2008, 10:08:08 PM
Me too, I would like to participate in that festival!  Sounds like a lot of fun.  Like we all have when we get together at the Glasgow Games.  I encourage all who can, to come to the Glasgow, KY Games in the Spring, we do have a lot of fun. 

Thanks Stu for finding all this information and posting it for us.  :D

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on December 16, 2008, 12:36:42 PM
The Banshee

It is told that dogs can see the spirit messenger of death coming nigh in the darkness. When they catch sight of it they begin to howl. People who hear dogs howling at night fear that someone they know will meet with a fatal accident or die suddenly while asleep.

The Banshee is dreaded by dogs. She is a fairy woman who washes white sheets in a ford by night when someone near at hand is about to die. It is said she has the power to appear during day-time in the form of a black dog, or a raven, or a hoodie-crow.

The following is a Highland poem about the Banshee, who is supposed to sing a mournful song while she washes the death-clothes of one who is doomed to meet with a sudden and unexpected death:--

Knee-deep she waded in the pool--
  The Banshee robed in green--
Singing her song the whole night long,
  She washed the linen clean;
The linen that must wrap the dead
  She beetled on a stone;
She washed with dripping hands, blood-red,
  Low singing all alone:

The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.


’Twas Fergus More rode o'er the hill,
  Come back from foreign wars;
His horse's feet were clattering sweet
  Below the pitiless stars;
And in his heart he would repeat:
  "O never again I'll roam;
All weary is the going forth,
  But sweet the coming home."

The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.

He saw the blaze upon his heart
  Bright-gleaming down the glen;
O, he was fain for home again!--
  He'd parted with his men.
"’Tis many a weary day," he'd sigh,
  "Since I did leave her side;
I'll never more leave Scotland's shore
  And Una Ban, my bride."

The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.


With thought of Una's tender love
  Soft tears his eyes did blind,
When up there crept and swiftly leapt
  A man who stabbed behind.
"’Tis you," he cried, "who stole my bride.
  This night shall be your last." . . .
As Fergus fell, the warm, red tide
  Of life came ebbing fast.

The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.


Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Mary on December 18, 2008, 12:42:02 PM
UGHHHHHHHH.............. if the dog runs off howling, I'd try a big stick on that Banshee!  >:(
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on December 21, 2008, 10:17:17 PM
I'll help you Mary!  :o

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: arlin payne on December 24, 2008, 03:51:06 PM
Since this is the general scottish category and the thread is customs and
traditions, Here goes.
I would like to wish all the Scottish Generals, every one here and the Thompson family world wide a MERRY CHRISTMAS and a Happy New Year..
See all of you next year.

Arlin ;D ;D ;D
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on January 08, 2009, 09:59:31 AM
FINNAN HADDIE
Let's try and catch a couple of fish on the same hook here! This item is traditional Scottish, a recipe, and something with which I am personally aquainted from early childhood on the coast of Maine. Back when I was a kid, my dad worked as a fisherman so fish was a frequent menu item at my house come suppertime and one of my favorites was finnan haddie. It used to be much more common in the grocery store back then than what it is today probably because fresh fish is more readily available now so the requirement for a longer shipping life is gone. The recipe is simple:
   In a baking dish place the finnan haddie and add milk to about half the thickness of the fish.
   Cover with aluminum foil and bake for 30 minutes at 350 degrees.
   Serve with lots of butter.

from the web...

For many Americans, finnan haddie recipes might sound like something exotic. But many of us have eaten this type of food under its more common name—smoked haddock.

Origins of Finnan Haddie Recipes
This white fish became popular in the coastal town of Findon, Scotland. Also known as Finnan, the catch was so well-known in the area that it soon took on the local name. In its original form, finnan haddie recipes were simple and primitive meals. Fisherman simply cleaned and split the fish, then smoked it right on the beach over a peat fire. Most chefs do more with the fish now, of course.

A Breakfast Fish?
In Scotland and other parts of Europe, finnan haddie recipes are a breakfast staple. Served alongside oatmeal, pancakes, and toast, it provides a hearty breakfast that that fills you up without the high calories and cholesterol that comes with other traditional breakfast staples. The grilled and poached versions of this fish are much healthier than bacon and eggs.

Europeans, in fact, rarely eat finnan haddie for anything other than breakfast. Serving it alongside mashed potatoes or with a white sauce is more common in New England and other parts of the United States.

Some people complain about the saltiness of the fish, but this is easy enough to fix. Simply simmer it gently in water before cooking it and discard the water. Much of the salt will be pulled from the fish, leaving you with just the haddock flavor. .

Retrieved from "http://recipes.lovetoknow.com/wiki/Category:Finnan_Haddie_Recipes"

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Ernest Thompson on January 08, 2009, 08:16:13 PM
In Australia it was known as Scotch Haddock and was served mainly as an evening meal with mashed potato and white sauce.
Not as common today as there are too many frozen fish delicacies available.

Ern
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Mary on January 09, 2009, 05:38:07 PM
Well, I've never tried smoked haddock........but we ate a passle of smoked salmon in Michigan! And we ate it for about any meal and for snacks (crackers, cream cheese, olives, smoked salmon...........UmmUmm!). We used to be able to get it from little smoke houses the gas stations, fishermen, etc. had and, while there was variety in it, I never had any bad smoked salmon!

Hadn't thought about that in years.........now I want some smoked fish! I'm not much of a fish-eater, but if i had a choice between what I buy 'fresh' at the store and some smoked salmon....it would be the salmon, hands down.  Well, maybe the batter-dipped, deep fried cod would compete well.....!

Thanks for the info, Stu and Ern - I'd never heard of Scotch Haddock or Finnan Haddie!

Mary
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Michael Thompson on January 10, 2009, 07:25:37 PM
Just had some lovely deep fried cod last night. Fish and chips is comfort food, no matter where you go.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Mary on January 11, 2009, 10:32:52 AM
You lucky dog!  They don't seem to have it here in TN.......in Michigan, it was the 'fish of choice,' but virtually unavailable here. If you don't eat catfish here, you don't get fried fish!

Hey Michael - any chance of you and yours coming to the AGM at Glasgow, KY?

Mary
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: arlin payne on January 12, 2009, 08:39:53 PM
Do love them smoked salmon.I used to pig out on it when I was in Alaska.
Two years of it wnen I was in the Air Force 'bout 46 years ago.
I'm very fond of trout and bass too.Cod aint to bad but not high on my list
of things to eat.Catfish? :-X :-X
Arlin
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on January 13, 2009, 10:46:44 AM
The Origin of the Tartan
from the Scottish humour site www.firstfoot.com

The tartan we see around us today bears little relation to the original McCoy.

The "plaid" cloth was a simple woven fabric first worn by the Pictish tribes of Northern Scotland, usually coloured with whatever natural dyes were to hand.

As often as not it was a pretty plain and uncolourful affair, made with practicality rather than any fashion statement in mind.
 
By night, the pleated "feiladh mor" served as a sleeping blanket and by day, by means of various wraps, tucks and folds, it was transformed into the garment we would recognise today as highland dress.

The whole concept, however, of each clan having their own set tartan as a means of family differentiation is a relatively modern one, and has no real basis in history or fact.

No organised system of clan or family identification through tartan existed until after it was "invented" on the back of the romanticisation of the Celts and all things highland that took place in the early 19th century and which so heavily influenced today's "shortbread-tin" image of Scotland to the world.

In other words, tartan is a major scam of international proportions and, like mugs, we have all been taken in.

How and why did this happen?

It's simple. Money. Greed. Business. Opportunism. And the visit of an English King who spoke only German.

Dubbed a "Tartan Extravaganza", George IV's State Visit to Edinburgh in 1822, the first by a reigning monarch for over 200 years, was a quite extraordinary affair, attracting the leaders of "new" highland society bedecked in an audacious array of kitsch and ahistorical finery and which, along with the writings of Sir Walter Scott which gloried in taking the notion of the bold, brave highlander to new extremes, sparked off a tartan frenzy.

It wasn't long before the Borders weavers spotted their big chance and started to cash in big time to meet this new demand. (Maybe they meant Reivers instead of weavers! Stu)

As in any good business, marketing and new product development are key to growth.

So it was, then, that new and brighter patterns were developed and the manufacturers were quick to spot the desire of their customers to have "their" tartan, and were only too happy to promote the myth if it meant increasing sales.

It certainly did the trick and, sure enough, today anyone can create "their own" tartan as long as it's not a direct copy of any other existing pattern.

There are now some 2000 named tartans in existence, despite the fact that there are only around one hundred recognised clan names.

Work out the Maths for yourself.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on January 16, 2009, 06:16:03 AM
Trysting Tree

Although not strictly Scottish, there is enough of a connection as to make this a suitable entry here.

Origins of the name

A 'Tryst' is a time and a place for a meeting, especially of lovers. In Old French the word meant an appointed station in hunting. A Trysting day, is an arranged day of meeting or assembling, as of soldiers, friends, lovers and the like.

History

Many trees have through their isolation, appearance or position been chosen as a popular meeting place for young courting couples, soldiers called to gather at a distinctive venue prior to battle, etc. Many a romantic story features Trysting Trees, none more so than the tales of Robin Hood and his merry men, the epitomy of old England in the days of chivalry and romance. In the 1845 version of the story, Maid Marion and Robin Hood are buried together under their 'Trysting Tree.' Scott's Ivanhoe and the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's 'The White Company' make several references to Trysting Trees.

Surviving and previously recorded Examples

Scotland

A section of a woodland strip that runs along the old road from Muirhouses farm to Middleton cottage in North Ayrshire, Scotland, is marked at 'Cheepy Neuk' on the OS maps of 1966 and 2000. In Scots 'Cheepy' means 'Chirpy' as in bird song or it can mean 'a light kiss', prompting the thought that this may have been a trysting place for courting couples in times past. Courtship (sometimes called dating or going steady) is the process of selecting and attracting a mate for marriage or sexual intercourse. ...

The Covin Trysting Tree, Bemersyde, Melrose, Grid Ref: NT 593 334, is a Sweet Chestnut (Castanea sativa) with aheight of 12.6 m, a diameter of 252 cm and is from 500 - 800 years old. The tree has long been a feature of Bemersyde, appearing in many paintings of the house including a sketch by Turner, located in the British Museum, London. The tree is thought to have been planted in the 12th Century by Petrus de Haga, making it 800 years old. The original Melrose is a town in the Scottish Borders a region of Scotland in the United Kingdom.

Although the original trunk has now died, layers were taken by Earl Haig in the 1950’s resulting in several new healthy stems rising from the base. One of the layers, planted about 30 meters from the original, is growing into a fine looking individual. The old rings that can be seen in the branches of the original Covin Tree were once attached to concrete weights which aimed to balance the trunk - in its younger days the tree was twice as high as it is now. Wikipedia does not have an article with this exact name. ... Wikipedia does not have an article with this exact name. ...

Kelso, in the Scottish Borders has a 'Trysting Tree' which is connected with the annual Common Ridings.

Robert Burns writes of a trysting tree (see below) at the Mill of Mannoch at Coylton in Ayrshire.

The National Burns Collection holds a cross section of thorn wood from a tree which grew at the Mill of Mannoch, Coylton, Ayrshire which was said to be Robert Burns' "trysting thorn",[4] a romantic meeting place. Throughout the 19th century the cult of Robert Burns rose to huge proportions and many "relics" of Burns, and his family, however spurious were treasured and preserved. Ayrshire (Siorrachd Inbhir Àir in Scottish Gaelic) is a region of south-west Scotland, located on the shores of the Firth of Clyde. ...

One polished surface of the thorn wood reads:

        "At length I reached the bonnie glen,
        Where early life I sported,
        I pass'd the mill and trysting thorn,
        Where Nancy aft I courted"

From the Burns's poem "The Soldier's Return".

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on January 22, 2009, 06:36:00 AM
The Curse of Scotland

Here's an interesting article I found.


Is the Curse of Scotland in the cards?

The theories and folklore behind the nine of diamonds and Scotland can fill a small book - but we'll summarize it for you below...

Published Date: 09 March 2006
By IAIN LUNDY

IT SOUNDS like one of these pieces of useless information that crop up in Scottish trivia quizzes. Which of the 52 cards in a standard set of playing cards is referred to as "The Curse of Scotland"?
The answer - for trivia fans everywhere - is the nine of diamonds. But why should such a non-descript card come to have such a dire meaning? Like most Scottish myths and folklore, there are so many explanations - some plausible, some bizarre - that it becomes a case of sifting through the stories to uncover the truth.

A truly fanciful tale is found in a claim by W Gurney Bentham in his 1931 book Playing Cards: History of the Pack and Explanations of Its Many Secrets. Bentham says the card became the curse because the Scottish crown could afford to have only nine diamonds, not ten like other countries. An example of English humour, methinks!

There are other fairly unlikely suggestions but along the way there are clues. The card was first recorded in print as "The Curse of Scotland" in 1710 - remember the date. Many bridge and poker players swear it relates to a game called Pope Joan, in which the nine of diamonds is the Pope - the anti-Christ to Scots Presbyterians.

Other Scottish historians claim it has nothing to do with card playing and that in the 16th-century reign of Queen Mary nine diamonds were stolen from the crown of Scotland by an Edinburgh freebooter called George Campbell - another clue there. A tax was levied on the people of Scotland to pay for the missing gems. The tax was given the nomenclature "Curse of Scotland", as did the playing card.

Certainly Campbell's deed was to live on in playing-card circles. The nine of diamonds, instead of being known as the curse, was sometimes named after unpopular Scots of the day – and Campbell featured prominently. So too did Moll Hepburne, a name for Mary Queen of Scots after her unpopular marriage to the 4th Earl of Bothwell, and the Justice Clerk, after the widely unpopular Lord Justice Clerk Ormiston in the early 1800s.

By now you may have seen a pattern of time emerging - that of the early Jacobite rising in Scotland. Too early for the next explanation, that the Duke of Cumberland – "butcher" to the Scots - scrawled the words "no quarter" on the back of a nine of diamonds to instruct his men that all those who had survived the Battle of Culloden in 1746 were to be killed.

But there was one man living in those lawless times to whom the card applies perfectly. He was seen by many as a curse on the land, responsible for one of the most heinous acts ever committed in Scottish history. He was an aristocrat with the number nine linked with his family. He was very active in Scottish politics in the 17th century and died in 1707, three years before the first written record of the nine of diamonds as the "Curse of Scotland".

Step forward the ever-reviled Sir John Dalrymple, 1st Earl of Stair who, as Scottish Secretary, gave the orders for the infamous Massacre of Glencoe in 1692 in which the Campbells killed 38 members of the Macdonald of Glencoe clan as they slept.

Whether Stair wrote the orders on the back of a playing card is doubtful. What is known is that the Stair coat of arms contains nine "lozenges" and a striking similarity to the nine of diamonds. In those days there was a huge anti-Campbell sentiment in the west Highlands and it would have been natural to link the hapless rogue George Campbell with the card said to curse Scotland.

Ted Cowan, professor of Scottish History at Glasgow University, says, "It is the only really credible explanation I can come up with and the one regarded by most people as having any substance."

So when you next play a game of poker, bridge or blackjack, and a nine of diamonds is dealt your way – quickly discard or fold. You don't want to be cursed!
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on January 23, 2009, 09:59:52 AM
The Linton Worm
From
The Battle Abbey Roll: with some account of the Norman lineages Vol. 1
By Catherine Lucy Wilhelmina Powlett Cleveland, Battle Abbey
Published by J. Murray, 1889

"His grandson further obtained in 1174 the barony of Linton in Roxburghshire. According to an old MS. in the Advocate's Library, quoted by Sir Walter Scott, " he was made by King William (the lion) his principal falconer, and got from that king the lands and baronie of Linton, in Teviotdale, for an extraordinaire and valiant action, which, according to the manuscript of the family of Drum, was thus: In the parochen of Lintoun there happened to breede a monster, in forme of a serpent or worme : in length, three Scots yards, and somewhat bigger than an ordinarie man's leg, with a head more proportionable to its length than greatnesse. It had its den in a hollow piece of ground, a mile S.E. from Lintoun church : it destroyed both men and beasts that came in its way. Several attempts were made to destroy it, by shooting of arrows, and throwing of darts, none daring to approach so near as to make use of a sword or lance. John Somerville* undertakes to kill it, and being well mounted, and attended with a stoute servant, he cam, before the sun-rising, before the dragon's den, having prepared some long, small, and hard peats " (bog-turf dried for fuel) " bedabbled with pitch, rosett, and brimstone, fixed with a small wire upon a wheel, at the point of his lance; these, being touched with fire, would instantly break out into flames; and, there being a breath of'air, that served to his purpose, about the sun-rising the worme appeared with her head and some part of her body without the den: whereupon his servant set fire to the peats upon the wheel at the top of the lance, and John Somerville, advancing with a full gallop, thrust the same with the wheel, and a great part of the lance, directly into the serpent's mouth, which wente down its throat into the belly, and was left there, the lance breaking by the re-bounding of the horse, and giving a deadly wound to the dragon ; for which action he was knighted by King William; and his effigies was cut in ston in the posture he performed this actione, and placed above the principal church door of Lintoun, where it is yet to be seen, with his name and sirname; and the place where this monster was killed is at this day called the Wormes Glen. And further to perpetuate this actione, the barons of Lintoun, Cowthally, and Drum, did always carry for crest a wheel, and thereon a dragon." The rude piece of sculpture that commemorates the exploit is still in its place; and a falcon on the knight's arm probably denotes his office of falconer...
* The champion's name was in reality William"

It has been suggested in other, more modern, sources that perhaps there may be a grain of truth in the tale of the Linton Worm. Some nobles kept private menageries and it may be that the worm was in fact an escapee from one such menagerie and could have been a python or other large exotic snake. Other sources also state that the charter of the barony dates to 1203 instead of 1174.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on January 25, 2009, 01:39:46 PM
Thanks Stu, a couple of interesting stories there in "The Curse of Scotland" and "The Linton Worm."  Scotland is so rich in myths and legends.

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Michael Thompson on January 26, 2009, 09:54:49 PM
You lucky dog!  They don't seem to have it here in TN.......in Michigan, it was the 'fish of choice,' but virtually unavailable here. If you don't eat catfish here, you don't get fried fish!

I do love a good catfish fry. We don't catch a lot of them here in Colorado, though they do grow in some of our warm water lakes. I think most of the catfish we eat are grown on farms though.

Quote
Hey Michael - any chance of you and yours coming to the AGM at Glasgow, KY?

Sounds fun Mary, and we've never been to Kentucky, but I doubt a cross-continental trip is in the cards for us this year.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Donna on January 27, 2009, 02:55:23 AM
Well now, speaking of fishing in Colorado, I hope our friend Booner is alive and well...I've been missing him around the forum.

Donna
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on January 27, 2009, 06:26:34 AM
Burns Night

The following is from the World Burns Club website here: http://www.worldburnsclub.com

Background

Many would argue that there are strict guidelines and observances that must be followed to create a "true" Burns Supper. Whilst in practice this may be true for the most dedicated Burns celebrations, it may not be wholly representative of a modern society comprising those who would rightly choose to celebrate Robert Burns, their Scottish Culture & Heritage in a less formal manner.

The first recorded Burns celebration was held in July 1801 on the anniversary of his Death comprising a group of friends and acquaintances. Later the date was to change to the evening of the anniversary of his Birth (25th January) and would become "Burns Night" with the focal point being the "Burns Supper" These gatherings were the origins of the Celebration of Burns as seen today. Similarly, Robert Burns would now be celebrated on St. Andrews Day, and at any other social occasion in the Calendar, for those with a link to Scottish Heritage.

Many of the long standing Burns Suppers are strictly "men only" affairs reflecting the historic nature of the celebration, and this is no doubt a proud tradition that will continue. Increasingly however, many organised Burns Suppers are "mixed company" which is helping to introduce more women to Burns and brings a greater social balance to the proceedings. (Do I hear howls of derision from the Burns purists?) The "all male" domain has been diluted so much over the years that women now play an important role in the Burns Supper, giving balance & female perspective through their toasts, recitals and song…….. not to mention the vast improvement in the visual content !.

So what is the purpose of a Burns Supper?

In simplistic terms, a Burns Supper is one of the most celebrated events in the Scottish cultural calendar, not just here in Scotland……but throughout the entire world. Whilst some of the component parts of a "Burns Supper" are used in other Scottish cultural celebrations, like St Andrews Day celebrations, "Tartan Day" events, Caledonian Society gatherings etc, the true Burns Supper follows a common agenda, specific to the celebration of the life, works & cultural heritage of Robert Burns. In addition, as Robert Burns has evolved over more than 200 years to become an icon of Scotland & Scottish identity, the Burns Supper is also an important celebration of Scotland itself. The main objective of a Burns Supper therefore is to celebrate the memory of Robert Burns and your Scottish heritage.

What are the principle components of a Traditional Burns Supper?

The following is a broad list of the key elements of a Burns Supper:-

    1) Guests !
    2) A traditional Burns Supper menu
    3) A Chairman or Chairwoman
    4) Speakers -

        The Address to the Haggis
        The Immortal Memory
        Toast to the Lassies
        Reply from the Lassies

    5) Entertainers -

        Piper (or appropriate music)
        Recitals of Burns poetry
        Singers - ballads & songs of Burns
        Musicians - playing traditional Scottish music

The Running Order.


The running order of a Traditional Burns Supper

"Piping in" of the top table guests, (if the event is of significant size) during which time, the audience stands and claps in time to the music whilst the guests enter the room in single file, and take their seats. When ready to be seated, the piper stops playing his bagpipes and the assembled crowd applauds the top table to welcome them.

Chairman's Welcome:- The Chairman welcomes everyone and introduces the top table guests , speakers & entertainers.

Selkirk Grace (prayer before meal) :- A small, but none the less important part for someone to carry out, with a rendition of The Selkirk Grace

"Piping in The Haggis":- Chairman asks the guests to be upstanding to receive the Haggis. The piper (or to the accompaniment of appropriate music) leads a small procession comprising, the Chef, presenting the Haggis on a silver platter; the person who will "Address the Haggis"; and sometimes a third person carrying a tray with a "tot" of whisky for each in the procession to "toast" the Haggis. During the procession, the guests clap in time to the music until the Haggis reaches its destination at the table. The music stops and everyone is seated in anticipation of the Address to the Haggis !

The Address to the Haggis:- The appointed person now gives a resounding and animated recital of the Address to a Haggis . At the appropriate time (during the line "An cut you up wi ready slight" meaning "and cut you up with skill") the speaker takes his knife, and with a great flourish, cuts the length of the haggis, "trenching its gushing entrails" (digging its innards) in a visible and dramatic fashion. The recital concludes with the speaker presenting aloft the Haggis in triumphant praise during the final line "Gie her a Haggis!" (Give her a Haggis!) The assembled audience applaud.

Toast to the Haggis:- The Speaker now asks the audience to share in a toast to the Haggis. Everyone, including the other members of the procession stands and raises their glass to "The Haggis!" The Piper once again begins to play and leads the procession, bearing the "cut" Haggis, out of the room in readiness for the meal. Again the audience clap in time to the music until the procession has left.

The Meal:- The meal is now served (usually with appropriate background music).

The "Bill O Fare" (menu) comprises "Cock-a-leekie" Soup,(an old Scottish recipe); The main course of "Haggis wi bashit neeps an' champit tatties" ( Haggis, mashed turnip/swede and mashed potatoes); Sweet course of "Clootie Dumplin" (Dumpling pudding prepared in a linen cloth or "cloot") or Scottish trifle; Final course of "Bannocks an Cheese" (Traditional Scottish Oatcakes and cheese board) finishing off with Coffee or Tea. Other variations exist and often the Haggis, Neeps an Tatties are served as a starter, with a main course of a Beef dish or Steak Pie. A custom has also developed where a "wee splash of Whisky Sauce", (which is straight whisky) is poured over the haggis giving it added flavour. Wine is often served with the meal and of course generous quantities of the finest Scottish malt whisky is consumed after the meal.

First Entertainer:- The Chairman introduces the first entertainer which could be a singer, a Burns recital, or musician. Favourite recitals include Tam O Shanter - Holly Willie's Prayer - To A Louse - A Man's A Man For A' That. Songs include My Luve Is Like A Red, Red Rose - Rantin, Rovin Robin - John Anderson, My Jo - Ae Fond Kiss

The Immortal Memory:- The Chairman introduces the keynote speaker who delivers a passionate speech on the life of Robert Burns during which he might inform the audience of Burns's great contribution to literature, of his Nationalistic pride in Scotland, his politics & principles, his humanity, his failings and his triumphs. This speech is normally both witty & humorous yet delivered with serious content and comment in praise of Burns. The objective is to give a rounded and informed but positive appraisal of Robert Burns, Scotland's most famous Son, National Bard, and representative of Common Man. The speech concludes with an invitation to the audience to join the speaker and raise your glass to drink a toast to "The Immortal Memory of Robert Burns"

Second Entertainer - Further appropriate entertainment.

Toast to "The Lassies" - Always a very humorous part in the proceedings where a toast is proposed to "The Lassies" (Women) . The object of this toast is to deliver a speech about the importance of women in our lives, drawing reference to Burns, the women in his life, his attitudes and views on Women, and concluding on a complimentary and positive note. At "male only" celebrations, the content is often a bit more "pointed" than if it were "mixed company", exaggerating the male chauvinist view of women in a very funny way. During "mixed company" celebrations, this is clearly toned down a little, still humorous, but much more complimentary. Either way, the challenge is to deliver a balanced witty and sincere toast which concludes with the speaker inviting all the men of the company, to stand and raise their glasses in a toast "To the Lassies"

Third Entertainer - suitable entertainment as before.

The "Reply" to the Toast to the Lassies - In mixed company, a woman will prose a suitable "reply" to the previous toast..…thanking the speaker on behalf of the women for his "kind" words! Again, this will be humorous, using reference to Robert Burns and the women in Burns's life. This is a chance for the women to "get their own back" on the men! Again, the challenge is to find a balance between humour and sincerity concluding on a suitably positive note.

Final entertainment

Vote of Thanks - A short speech thanking everyone who has made the event a success, from Chairman to Chef etc.

Auld Lang Syne - The Chairman concludes the evening by asking everyone to stand and join in a robust rendition of the famous song "Auld Lang Syne" The company join hands and sing together. At the line "And here's a hand…etc"….everyone's hands are "crossed in front" re-joining the hands of the people on either side. (Hope you follow that!)

 
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Michael Thompson on January 28, 2009, 08:20:14 PM
Well now, speaking of fishing in Colorado, I hope our friend Booner is alive and well...I've been missing him around the forum

you know, I should have thought to invite Booner (and anyone else in the area) to the Burns supper. This was our 9th Year. Had a wonderful time.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Booner on February 01, 2009, 06:14:33 PM
Michael--Invite me next year!

And Donna, my favorite fish for eating is Brook trout, cooked streamside, fairly caught on a fly that you tied yourself

Booner
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on February 02, 2009, 10:10:47 AM
‘‘Fastern Eve HandBa'’

In the Celtic religion the head was considered to hold an individual’s essence or soul. Head hunting was an essential by-product of Celtic warfare. Normally, an enemies head was treasured – except in those instances when the enemy was regarded as half human or bestial. Then – the enemies head was given to the children to use as they thought fit – normally resulting in what we would today call a ball game from which football and rugby derive.

This Celtic tradition of head veneration is still to be found in the small Scottish Borders town of Jedburgh – where an image of an Englishman’s head is kicked about and fought over in the yearly ‘‘Fastern Eve HandBa'’ festival.

Jedburgh has maintained its strong sense of identity and with it many traditions which have long since vanished elsewhere.

The ‘Fastern Eve HandBa'’ is played every February in the streets of the town. Popular throughout medieval Scotland, one gruesome explanation of the origin of the game is that, following a particularly bloody battle between the Scots and their Auld Enemy, the victorious Scots used the head of a fallen English general as a ball.

The Jedburgh version acquired its current format in the 1700's. A series of beribboned balls are thrown up at the Mercat Cross and two teams - the "Uppies" and "Doonies" - struggle to "hail" the ball at the Castle and the Jedwater at the Townfoot, respectively.

The boys play for a couple of hours before the men take over and it is usual for hundreds to participate. The traditions involved are complicated and strictly observed and only the players are experts on the rules.

Various kings and Town Councils have tried to stop the HandBa' but the game has only been missed once, when the HandBa' coincided with Queen Victoria's funeral in 1901.

Recently – there has been approaches made both to the Lothian & Borders Police and Scottish Borders Council to outlaw this practice (‘Fastern Eve HandBa'’) upon the grounds of racial prejudice. It is understood such approaches have not only been ignored but members of the local Jedburgh police have suggested that ‘more the pity, its not a fresh English head in use’.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on February 03, 2009, 12:55:28 PM
Although we've talked about the Selkies before... it seems there may be more to the story...

The children of the selkie-folk

The following account was documented by the Orkney antiquarian and folklorist Walter Traill Dennison towards the end of the 19th century.

In a paper, published in 1893 in the pages of the Scottish Antiquary, he recounts the semi-mythical tale of an Orcadian woman, who, after lying with a selkie man, falls pregnant and produces offspring with distinct traits.

Dennison changed the name of the woman, so as not to "bring shame on the family and embarrass her descendents"...

Ursilla was the daughter of a laird belonging to one of the oldest families in Orkney. She was handsome and pretty, but had a sternness of manner, and that firmness of features which often presents a masculine exterior in families of Norse blood, and often hides, as with a film of ice, a loving heart within.

Ursilla was not one to wait patiently till some one turned up to offer himself as her husband. Indeed, had any one presumed to approach her as a lover, she would have treated him with haughty disdain, regarding his bold presumption as sufficient ground for his rejection.

She determined not to be chosen, but to choose for herself. Her choice fell on a young handsome fellow, who acted as her father's barn-man. But she knew that any disclosure of her passion would mortally offend her old father and bitterly mortify his family pride and might lead him to disinherit her. So she locked up her love in her own breast; kept watchful eye on the object of her love, and treated him to a full share of the scoldings she daily bestowed on the servants.

When, however, her father died, and her tocher was safe, she disclosed her passion to the young man, and commanded him to marry her - a command which he was too gallant to disobey.

Her marriage excited among the gentry great indignation; to think that one of their class should marry a farm-servant. Ursilla treated their contempt with indifference; she made a good housewife, managed her house well, and also, it was said, managed her husband and the farm.

At this point, Dennison went to great pains to remind his readers that the information he had provided so far was valid but that which followed was merely "an imaginary tale, invented by gossips, in order to account for a strange phenomenon visibly seen on her descendants."

The tale, he states, "is only given to illustrate one of the popular beliefs":

Yes, Ursilla was married, and all went well and happily, so far as outward appearances showed; Yet Ursilla was not happy. If disappointed in her husband, she was far too proud to acknowledge it, knowing that the gentry would only say in derision, "She shaped her own cloth, let her wear her ill-fitting dress."

Whatever the cause might be, there was a terrible want - a want that Ursilla felt bitterly. And she was not the woman to sit down and cry over her sorrow; she determined to console herself by having intercourse with one of the selkie-folk.

She went at early morning and sat on a rock at high-tide mark, and when it was high tide she shed seven tears in the sea. People said they were the only tears she ever shed. But you know this is what one must do if she wants speech with the selkie-folk. Well, as the first glimpse of dawn made the waters grey, she saw a big selkie swimming for the rock.

He raised his head, and says he to her, "What's your will with me, fair lady?"

She likely told him what was in her mind; and he told her he would visit her at the seventh stream (spring tide), for that was the time he could come in human form.

So, when the time was come, he came; and they met over and over again. And, doubtless, it was not for good that they met so often. Anyway, when Ursilla's bairns were born every one of them had web hands and webbed feet, like the paws of a selkie.

And did not that tell a tale?

The midwife clipped the webs between every finger, and between every toe of each bairn.

"She showed the shears that she used to my grandmother." So said the narrator. And many a clipping Ursilla clipped, to keep the fins from growing together again; and the fins not being allowed to grow in their natural way, grew into a horny crust on the palms of the hands and soles of the feet. And this horny substance is seen in many of Ursilla's descendants to this day.

Whatever may be thought of this tale, its last sentence is quite true. The horn still appears on feet and hands of some of the lady's descendants. One, two, or three in a family may show the abnormal horny substance; while brothers and sisters are entirely free from the troublesome horn.

Although Dennison put no real faith in the folklore origin of this horny crust found on the hands and feet of some of Ursilla's descendants, the condition at least was verified.

Some ten years ago, while engaging a harvest hand, I said to one of these men, "Of course, you can do all kinds of harvest work?"

"Oh na, sir," said he, "hid's nae use tae tell a lee aboot hid; but I cinno' bind a sheaf wi' this plaguid horn in me livs."

Another of the same family told me that when, through the growth of the horn, he was unable to walk or work, he would, with hammer and chisel, cut off large slices of horn from the soles of his feet. This growth is by no means confined to those engaged in manual labour. I have felt it on the hands of one of the same race who followed a profession where manual labour was not required.

This curious phenomenon seems well worthy of careful investigation by the physiologist. Pity it could not be traced to the seal; we might then be in sight of the missing link.

Many wild tales were told of the offspring of such strange parentage who had webbed hands and feet; but the foregoing will serve to illustrate a once popular belief.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Mary on February 04, 2009, 07:51:14 AM
Thanks, Stu!   I never knew that.......I'd heard about the Selkies, but never seemed to find the time to discover more.  Growing up, it seemed like we heard a lot more of the Irish folklore than Scottish and I STILL don't seem to find the time to sit and look it up......So, please, continue to spoon feed me!  ;D
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on February 05, 2009, 10:03:07 AM
Mary, this is for you. From the Visit Dunkeld website...

Scottish Spinning and Weaving

A field of flax in flower made a bonny crop,a lake of blue
flowers lapping against the woods and hedgerows.
A useful crop, indeed, for the seeds produced linseed oil, while the straw was “retted,” then processed in some local mill, then sent as tow to the “hecklers,” spinners, weavers, lappers and seamstresses of the factories.

It was useful, too, in this respect, that it brought folk together, both young and old. Even a youngster could help to spread the lint, and an old woman could still sit filling the pirns, and no doubt spin many an old tale besides.

The cultivation of flax and making of linen is a very old craft. Blairgowrie had one of the earliest scutching mills in Scotland, and until recent times the fields along by the lochs of Marlee and Fingask could still show a few acres of flax under cultivation.

The flower of the flax not only created a staple industry, it wove itself into our song and folklore. Even in the 14th century we have Robert Henryson, a Dunfermline schoolmaster, describing the processing of flax in verse:

“The lynt ryipit, the carll pullit the lyne,
Rippillit the bolles, and in beitis set,
It steipit in the borne, and dryit syne,
And with ane betill knokkit it, and bett,
Syne swingillit it weill, and hekellit in the flat,
His wyfe it span, and twynit it in to threid.”

In remote days the spinner made use of the distaff and spindle. Robert Burns, in his poem “Bessie and Her Spinning Wheel,” writes:

I bought my wife a stane o’ lint,
As guid as e’er did grow,
And a’ that she has made o’ that
Is a’e weary pund o’ tow.
The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o’ tow.
I think my wife will end her life
Before she spins her tow.”

In the old days, a servant lass taking a job was not asked if she could sew or clean or bake or brew.
She was asked, ” Can you spin ?“ For a wage she would get perhaps £1 per year, along with a lippie of lint-seed. This she sowed in a piece of ground in one of her master’s fields, and the crop that resulted became her property, later to be woven into sheets and towels for her “providing” on marriage.

In one old song, “Janet and Me,” the crofter boasts about his possessions, and mentions:

Twa wabs o’ linen
0’ Janet’s am spinnin’
As thick as dogs’ logs
An’ as white as snaw.

But it was a long way from the sown seed to the snowy linen of the dower chest. There was hard work in the fields, weeding and more weeding. When the plant had ripened there was the pulling, and laying in lint-holes. There the lint was steeped till fermentation set in, then soread out to dry.

When dry, it was bundled and carried to the lint-mill. If you look at an old map of Tayside, you will ‘see these lint-mills dotted here and there along the valleys of the streams. The Dighty, flowing past Dundee, was a very hard-worked stream in this respect.

At the mill the wood was removed from the fibre by means of fluting and scutching. Then the heckler took over. His job was a very dusty one. The heckle was a rough stand about three feet high with a heavily spiked board set on top. Over these spikes the flax was thrown, and combed to get rid of the tow, a heavy job as well as a dusty one, and it needed a certain dexterity.

The flax was then put into “heads,” passed on to the rock and spindle, and transformed into yarn. Women took over the job here, winding the spun flax on to large bobbins, from which it was reeled into hanks. Then came boiling and cleaning. On drying it was filled on to warp pirns and beamed, and so was formed the foundation of the future web. Then the weaver came into the picture, and the web was woven.

But it was not all work and no play. There were many social interludes like spinning-bees, at which the lasses demonstrated their skill, to the accompaniment of song and story. Some of these songs are quite charming in their words and melody. Some are comic, such as “The Weaver o’ the North”

There was a weaver o’ the north
And oh but he was cruel,
The very nicht that he got wed
He sat an’ grat for gruel.”

But alas, the day of the blue fields of flax and of the lint-mills have passed. As the great spinning-mills of Dundee, Arbroath and so on came into being, the patches of lint around villages and farms began to dwindle, for now huge supplies of flax were being imported from the Baltic, dwarfing the local crops into insignificance.

So the housewife stowed away her spindle and wheel, and the wobster set aside the handloom that had served for several generations of his family. Gone were the cheerful gatherings, when neighbours came to beam the web, and all that fun and frolic on the village-green at bleaching-time, it now belonged to the past.

But the flax industry, one of the very earliest of human enterprises, still thrives, though in a different way and in a different setting.

And we can still sing the weaving songs:

If it wisna for the weavers, what would we do?
We wadna hae claith made o’ oor woo’,
We wadna hae a coat, neither black nor blue
Gin it wisny for the wark o’ the weavers.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on February 06, 2009, 10:44:49 PM
Thank you Stu for posting all the myths and legends.  The Selkie-folk was interesting.  Wonder if there was really a congenital birth defect in that certain family that carried down through the generations.  ???

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on February 09, 2009, 06:30:15 AM
The Burning of the Clavie, Burghead, Elgin

Before the calendar change in the year 1660, Hogmanay was celebrated on the 11th of January. It is known as Old Yule Night. However in 1752 the old style calendar was dropped in favour of the Continental calendar by the then British Government. People were forced to loose 11 days in September of that year to bring Britain into line with Europe. This then made New Years Day the 1st of January. People of Britain were most annoyed at loosing eleven days and many still followed the old calendar and continued to celebrate New Year on the 11th.

The North East of Scotland has always been a fishing region and fishermen and fisher folk are a superstitious lot and this ceremony is one of their fishing superstitions. They do this burning of the Clavie ceremony to ensure a successful fishing for the new year.

Each year the villagers of Burghead, just outside Elgin, celebrate the traditional Hogmanay date by burning the clavie.

From 6pm - 7.30pm eleven people (The Clavie King and his 10 men) take turns to carry the clavie through the streets, stopping at houses to present a smouldering ember.

The procession continues to Doorie Hill on the ramparts of the ancient Pictish Fort where it is put down onto a stone altar and the hillside set alight so that people from the crowd can come and get a flaming ember to kindle a new fire at home to bring good luck for the New Year.

The eleven men are traditionally fishermen from the village. Each of the Clavie men are descendants of village folk who have taken part in the ceremony over the years.

The clavie would traditionally have been a herring barrel but these days it is an iron hooped whisky barrel daubed with creosote. This is filled with wood shavings and tar and then nailed to a carrying post. The same nail is used each year.

It is considered a bad omen for the village and the fishing industry if the Clavie is dropped. In the olden days one man, the strongest in the village, would carry the burning Clavie. It was quite dangerous because of the burning tar that could trickle down onto the back of the carrier.

The Clavie would also be carried around the boats in the harbour for good luck, but this tradition is no longer performed.


Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on February 12, 2009, 10:46:34 AM
HOW THE CORRIEVRECHAN GOT ITS NAME...

This whirlpool is VERY, VERY dangerous at the wrong times... Corrievrechan is the third-biggest whirlpool in the world; it lies between the Inner Hebridean isles of Jura and Scarba and, in certain conditions of wind and tide, is extremely dangerous.

How was it named? there are a few theories and variations, but here are two:-

**Long ago, the people of the area believed that the Gulf of Corrievrechan was where the Hag of Winter (The Cailleach Bheur) washed her plaid. The Cailleach was believed to be an old-woman goddess, responsible for spreading the harshness and whiteness of winter.

As winter approached, she would would use the gulf as her washtub, to wash her plaid; and the tempest resulting could be heard twenty miles away. This could last for up to three days and, when she was finished, the cloth was pure white, becoming the blanket of snow covering the land.

and...

** Once upon a time, there was a Scandinavian Prince called Breachan, or Breakan. He fell in love with a Hebridean Princess but, unwilling to part with his beautiful daughter, her father made a condition: Breachan had to anchor his boat - with him in it, of course - over the whirlpool for three consecutive nights.

Breachan took advice as to how he might defeat the awesome might of this giant whirlpool; wise men gave him the solution. So he had three anchor-ropes made- one of hemp; one of wool; and one of Scandinavian Maidens' hair. (it was believed that if the others failed, the purity and innocence of the Maidens would ensure the hair rope was strong enough).

On the first night, the hempen rope failed - but the other two held.

On the second night, the woolen rope failed - but the maiden-hair rope held.

On the third night ............. the third rope broke - and Breachan's boat was swallowed up by the whirlpool, drowning himself and most of his crew. The sole-surviving crewman and Breachan's dog dragged the body of Breachan ashore - he was buried in the King's Cave.

When the crewman finally made it home again and told of Breachan's fate, one of the young Scandinavian ladies was overcome by guilt, as she was not as pure as she had made out; it had been her hair which weakened the rope.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on February 24, 2009, 10:59:49 AM
Scottish Doocots

A Doocot, doucat or dove-cote is a pigeon-house. They vary greatly in appearance. In Scotland the usual type is gabled and crow-stepped, but occasionally you come upon one of quite different style.

Doocots are few and far between these days, and there is still a tendency to demolish those that still stand. This is a pity, for in itself the doocot not only forms a link with mediaeval times, it often marks the site of ancient buildings of which nothing now remains. For example, a doocot stands in the open fields at Bonnyton, near Bridge of Dun, and is the only remaining sign of the castle that once was there.

Others that come readily to mind are. those excellent examples at Tealing and Kilspindie. Decorative though they were, these pigeon-houses were primarily for the purpose of having a supply of pigeon-meat on hand. By an Act of James IV. in 1503, every laird was to have a park with deer, fish ponds, rabbit warrens and “dowcatis.” And no doubt this “grow your own food” drive resulted in many doocots being built about that time. It should be remembered that cattle were then largely slaughtered and salted down at the approach of winter as there was a lack of winter-feed. No doubt the fresh pigeon-meat was welcome, as a change from the salted fare. 500 breeding pairs of pigeons was about the average for each doocot.

(http://www.clanthompson.org/Images/Doocot Fife - stu.jpg)  Image of Doocot

(http://www.clanthompson.org/Images/Doocot Fife Stu.jpg) Inside
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on February 27, 2009, 12:18:46 PM
Hellish Nell from the Firstfoot.com website

HELEN DUNCAN
"Hellish Nell" (1897 - 1956)
 

There was a lot of Helen Duncan. Tipping the scales at over 22 stones, this Callendar born lass would have made an ideal Weight Watchers customer.

But it isn't for her weight that Hellish Nell will be remembered but as the last person to be tried under the 1735 Witchcraft Act.

Helen Duncan was a throwback to vaudeville. She was a "medium" who put on a great show at seances which were popular the length and breadth of Britain.

Usually, if they got on the wrong side of the law, folk like Helen were tried under fraud legislation. So, why was Hellish Nell so special ?

It's all down to World War Two and the misnomer that was the "Intelligence Service".

In December 1941 the British battleship HMS Barnham was sunk. This fact was kept secret until January 1942.

At a seance shortly after the sinking but before it was publicly announced, Hellish Nell materialised a vision of a drowned sailor, with the HMS Barnham ribbon on his hat.

The woman was obviously a danger to national security.

In 1944 in of the most sensational episodes in wartime Britain, Hellish Nell was tried and convicted at the Old Bailey for summoning spirits. She was sentenced to nine months imprisonment.

Why was there a three year gap between the offence and the trial ?

Enter the "Intelligence Services".

In 1944 preparations for D-Day were far advanced. Anything that compromised security and secrecy was dangerous. And so were charlatans like Helen Duncan. So, into chokey she went.

It was a notorious trial and caught the attention of Winston Churchill who thought it a bloody nonsense but was overruled by the Secret Service.

The harassment of Helen Duncan continued right up to her death in Nottingham in 1956. Something to do with the British spirit of fair play ?

 
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on March 03, 2009, 08:46:18 AM
The Big Grey Man of Ben MacDhui from the Firstfoot website.

Scotland's answer to the Himalayan Yeti or the North American "Big Foot", the Big Grey Man is one of Scotland's more recent mysteries.

The first "official" report of a malevolent presence on the mountain was given in 1925 by Norman Collie, an experienced climber with all the credentials of a credible witness in the situation. As a professor of chemistry at the University of London, this was not a man for whom hysteria or fanciful imagination was usual.

Mr Collie claimed that whilst climbing Ben MacDhui unaccompanied in 1891, he had become aware of another presence following him, although he knew there were no other climbers around. He estimated from the sound that his pursuer was taking steps three or four times the length of his own.

Although unable to catch any real sight of it, a sinister impression of being stalked by a huge and menacing creature grew upon Norman, so he did what any sensible person would do in the circumstances and ran like buggery without stopping to look back, careering and tumbling down the slope until he reached safety at the mountain foot. He never went on the mountain alone again.

Since then there have been many further reports of climbers experiencing the presence of a shadowy figure that filled them with terror and pursued them as they fled. Some have reported being drawn as if hypnotically to the edge of dangerous ledges and precipices while others are believed to have been chased to their deaths, in their desperation to excape, over the edge of the cliff known as Lurcher's Crag.

Actual sightings of the Big Grey Man have been rare, but "eye-witness" descriptions of his appearance describe him as being around ten feet tall, covered in hair, with very long arms and legs. A couple of reports claimed that the beast was also wearing a top hat!

Huge footprints in the snow, not made by any human or known animal have been found and photographed. In 1965, prints were discovered measuring 14 inches and with a massive stride that covered around 5 feet, just as Norman Collie had estimated prior to his panic-filled descent down the mountainside in 1891.

Hallucinations? Tricks of the light? Hoax? Who knows. But you sure won't catch me climbing Ben MacDhui.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on March 03, 2009, 09:46:34 PM
The Loch Ness monster, selkies, banshees and the Big Grey Man......Scotland is soooooo interesting!!!  :o

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Donna on March 04, 2009, 12:01:31 AM
but...was he wearing a KILT   :o

Donna
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on March 04, 2009, 05:32:04 AM
Not in the picture on Firstfoot.com although he was sporting a fine Glengarry!
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on March 08, 2009, 09:53:32 AM
Prince Iain

Once upon a time there was a King and a Queen, and they had one son. But the Queen died, and the King married another wife. The name of the first Queen's son was Iain. He was handsome and a good hunter. No bird could escape his arrow, and he could bring venison home any day he went out hunting.
But one day he was unlucky for the first time. He saw no deer, and when he shot an arrow at a Blue Falcon, he knocked a feather out of her wing. Putting the feather into his bag, he went home.
"What did you kill today?" said his stepmother.
Iain took the Blue Falcon's feather from his bag and gave it to her.
"I'm putting a spell on you," said his stepmother. "The water will run into your shoes and out again, and your feet will be cold and wet with brown bog water, till you bring me the bird this feather is from."
"I'm putting a spell on you," said Prince Iain to the Queen, his stepmother. "Till I come back, you will stand with one foot on that house, and your other foot on that castle and suffer every tempest and every wind that blows."
Prince Iain went off as fast as he could, leaving his step mother with one foot on the house and her other foot on the castle. (She was much colder than he was with his wet feet.) Prince Iain walked all day over waste land, looking for the Blue Falcon. As night fell, the little birds flew off to roost in the trees and bushes. When it was dark, Iain sheltered under a briar bush, when who should pass but Gillie Martin the Fox.
"No wonder you're down in the mouth, Prince Iain," said he. "You've come on a bad night. All I've got to eat is a sheep's leg and cheek. We'll have to do with that."
So they lit a fire and roasted the scraps of mutton. After their scanty supper, they slept side by side under the briar bush till morning.
"Prince Iain," said the Fox, "the Blue Falcon you're looking for belongs to the Big Giant with Five Heads. I'll show you where his house is, and my advice to you is this, become his servant. Tell him you can feed birds and swine, or look after cows, goats and sheep. Be quick to do everything he asks you, and be very good to his birds. In time he may trust you to feed his Blue Falcon. When this happens, be very kind to the bird and when the Giant is not at home, carry her off. But, take care that not one feather touches anything in the Giant's house. If this happens, you'll be in trouble."
"I'll be careful," said Prince Iain.
He went to the Giant's house and knocked on the door.
"Who's there?" shouted the Giant.
"It's me," said Iain. "I've come to see if you need a servant."
"What are you good at?" asked the Giant.
"I can feed birds and swine. I can feed and milk a cow, or goats or sheep."
"It's a lad like you I want," said the Giant, coming out of his house.
They came to an agreement about Iain's wages, and the lad began to feed the Giant's birds and animals. He was kind to the hens and the ducks. The Giant saw how well Iain was doing, and compared his food now with what it had been before Iain came. The hens and the ducks tasted better, and the Giant said he would rather have one now than two he had had before.
"This lad's so good, I think I can trust him to feed my Blue Falcon," said the Giant. So he gave Iain the Blue Falcon to look after, and the lad took great care of the bird, such care that the Giant thought Iain could be trusted to look after the Blue Falcon when its master was away from home.
So the Giant left his house one day in Iain's care. "Now's my chance," said Iain. He seized the Falcon and opened the door, but when the Falcon saw the daylight she spread her wings to fly, and one feather of one wing touched the doorpost. The doorpost screamed, and the Giant came running home. He took the Blue Falcon from Iain.
"I'll not give you my Falcon," said the Giant, "unless you bring me the White Sword of Light from the Big Women of Jura."
Prince Iain had to leave the Giant's house at once, and he wandered through the waste land. As it was growing dark, Gillie Martin the Fox met him.
"You're down in the mouth," said the Fox, "because you'll not do as I tell you. This is another bad night like the last. All I've got to eat is a sheep's leg and cheek. We'll have to do with that."
They lit a fire and cooked the mutton in the white flame of the dripping fat. After supper they went to sleep on the ground until morning.
"We'll go to the edge of the ocean," said Gillie Martin. So Iain went with the Fox to the shore.
"I'll shape-shift myself into a boat," said the Fox. "Go on board and I'll take you over to Jura. Go to the Seven Big Women of Jura and be their servant. When they ask you what you can do, say you're good at polishing steel and iron, gold and silver. Take care you do everything well, till they trust you with the White Sword of Light. When you have a chance, run off with it, but take care the sheath does not touch anything in the house, or you'll be in trouble."

Gillie Martin the Fox changed into a boat, and Iain went on board. When the boat reached land to the north of Jura, Iain jumped ashore and went off to take service with the Seven Big Women of Jura. He reached their house and knocked on the door.

"What are you looking for?" they asked him.
"I'm looking for work," said Iain. "I can polish gold and silver, steel and iron."
"We need a lad like you," they said.
They agreed about his wages, and for six weeks Iain worked very hard. The Big Women were watching him.
"This is the best lad we've had," they said. "Now we may trust him with the White Sword of Light."
They gave him the White Sword of Light to look after, and he took great care of it, till one day the Big Women were out of the house. Iain thought this was his chance. He put the White Sword of Light into its sheath and put it over his shoulder, but going out of the door the sheath touched the lintel of the door, and the lintel screamed. The Seven Big Women came running home and took the Sword from him.
"We'll not give you our White Sword of Light, unless you give us in return the Yellow Filly of the King of Erin."
Iain went to the shore of the ocean, where Gillie Martin met him.
"You're down in the mouth, Iain," said the Pox, "because you'll not do as I tell you. This is another bad night like the last. All I've got to eat is a sheep's leg and cheek. We'll have to do with that."
They lit a fire, cooked the mutton and satisfied their hunger.
"I'll shape shift myself and become a barque," said Gillie Martin the Fox. "Go aboard and I'll take you to Erin. When we reach Erin, go to the house of the King and ask service as a stable lad. When he asks what you can do, tell him you can groom and feed horses, polish the silverwork and the steel work on their harness. Be willing to do everything necessary and keep the horses and their harness in good order, till the King trusts you with the Yellow Filly. This will give you a chance to run away with her. But take care when you're leading her out that no bit of her, except her shoes, touches anything within the stable gate, or there'll be trouble."
Everything happened as the Fox said, till they reached the King's house.
"Where are you going?" asked the gate keeper.
"To see if the King has need of a stable lad," said Iain.
So he was taken to the King, who said: "What are you looking for here?"
"I came to see if you needed a stable lad."
"What can you do?"
"I can groom and feed the horses, polish the silver-work and the steel work on their harness."
So the King gave him the job at good wages. Soon the King noticed that his horses had never looked so well, so he gave Iain the Yellow Filly to care for. The Yellow Filly improved so much in appearance and speed that she could leave the wind behind her and overtake the wind ahead.
One day the King went out hunting, leaving the Yellow Filly in her stable. Iain saw that this was his chance, so he saddled and bridled her and took her out of the stable. But at the gate the Yellow Filly flicked her tail and touched the gate post. The gate post screamed, and the King came galloping back from the hunt.
"I'll not give you the Yellow Filly, unless you fetch me the daughter of the King of France," he said. So Iain went down to the seashore, where he met Gillie Martin.
"You're down in the mouth," said the Pox, "because you'll not do as I tell you. But I'll turn myself into a ship and take you to Prance in no time."
The Fox changed himself into a ship, and Iain went on board. Soon they came to France, where the ship ran herself aground on a rock. Then Iain climbed down on to the shore and walked up to the King's house.
"Where have you come from, and what are you doing here?" asked the King of France.
"A great storm came on, and we lost our captain at sea. Our ship is aground on a rock, and I don't know if we'll get her off again," said Iain.
The King and Queen and their family went down to the shore to see the ship. As they were looking at it, wonderful music sounded on board, and the King of France's daughter went with Iain on board to find out where the music came from. But the music was always in another part of the ship, till at last it came from the upper deck. The Princess and Iain climbed to the upper deck to find that the ship was, by that time, far out at sea, out of sight of land.
"That's a bad trick you played on me," said the Princess. "Where are you taking me?"
"To Erin," said Iain, "to give you to the King of Erin in return for the Yellow Filly, which I'll give to the Seven Big Women of Jura in return for their Sword of Light, which I'll give to the Giant with the Five Heads in return for his Blue Falcon, which I'll take home to my stepmother so that she'll free me from her spells. But you'll be safe with the King of Erin, who wishes to make you his wife."
"I'd rather be your wife," said the King of France's daughter.
When the ship came to the shores of Erin, Gillie Martin changed himself into a woman as beautiful as the King of France's daughter.

"Leave the King of France's daughter here till we come back," said the Fox. "I'll go with you to the King of Erin, and give him enough of a wife!" So the Fox, in the form of a beautiful young woman, took Iain's arm. The King of Erin came to meet them, and gave Iain the Yellow Filly with a golden saddle on her back, and a silver bridle. Iain galloped back to the King of France's daughter who was still waiting by the seashore.

Meanwhile, the King of Erin and his new wife went to bed. But in the night, Gillie Martin changed back from a beautiful young woman and became the Fox again. He tore the flesh from the King, from his neck to his waist. Then the Fox ran down to the shore where Iain and the Princess of France were waiting.
"Leave the Princess and the Yellow Filly here," said the Fox. "I'll go with you to the Seven Big Women of Jura, and give them enough of fillies!"
Then the Fox changed himself into a yellow filly. Iain saddled him with a golden saddle, and bridled him with a silver bridle, and rode on the filly's back to the Seven Big Women of Jura, who gave him the White Sword of Light in exchange for the filly. Iain took the golden saddle and the silver bridle off the yellow filly, and carried them, with the White Sword of Light, back to the shore. Here the Princess of France was waiting with the real Yellow Filly.
Meanwhile the Seven Big Women of Jura, very eager to ride on the back of the Yellow Filly, put a saddle on the Fox's back. The first Big Woman climbed into the saddle. The second Big Woman climbed on to the back of the first Big Woman; and the third Big Woman climbed on to the back of the second Big Woman; and the fourth Big Woman climbed on to the back of the third Big Woman; and the fifth Big Woman climbed on to the back of the fourth Big Woman; and the sixth Big Woman climbed on to the back of the fifth Big Woman; and the seventh Big Woman climbed on to the back of the sixth Big Woman.
The first Big Woman hit the filly with a stick. The filly ran backward and forward with the Seven Big Women of Jura on her back. Then she ran across moors, and then she ran up a mountain to the very top. She stopped with her forefeet on the edge of a cliff, kicked up her hind legs, and threw the Seven Big Women of Jura over the cliff. Then the filly changed back into the Fox, and ran laughing down to the seashore where Iain and the Princess of France, and the real Yellow Filly, and the White Sword of Light, were all waiting for him.
Gillie Martin the Fox became a boat and Iain helped the Princess of France into the boat, with the Yellow Filly, and carried the Sword of Light on board. Then the boat took them across the water to the mainland, where it changed back into Gillie Martin the Fox.
"Leave the Princess here," said the Fox, "and the Yellow Filly, and the Sword of Light. I'll change into a white sword, which you will give to the Giant with Five Heads. In return he'll give you the Blue Falcon. I'll see that he has enough of swords!"
When the Giant with Five Heads saw Iain coming with the sword, he thought it was the White Sword of Light, and he put the Blue Falcon into a basket and gave it to Iain, who carried the Blue Falcon back to the seashore where he had left the Princess waiting with the Yellow Filly and the real Sword of Light.
Meanwhile, the Giant with the Five Heads began fencing with the white sword, and swinging it round his head. Suddenly the sword bent itself and, before the Giant realized what was happening, he cut off his own heads, all five of them. Then the sword changed back into Gillie Martin the Fox, who ran down to the seashore where he had left Iain and the Princess.
"Now, listen carefully," he said to Iain. "Put the gold saddle on the Yellow Filly, and the silver bridle. Let the Princess of France, with the Blue Falcon in its basket, sit behind you on the back of the Yellow Filly. You, Iain, will hold the White Sword of Light with the back of the blade against your nose, and the edge of the sword toward your stepmother, the Queen. If you make any mistake, your stepmother will change you into a stick of firewood. But do as I tell you, with the sword held exactly as I have said. When she tries to bewitch you she will fall down as a bundle of sticks."
Iain was specially careful this time, and did exactly as Gillie Martin the Fox told him. He held the Sword of Light with the back of its blade against his nose, and the edge of the sword towards his stepmother, the Queen, and when she fell down as a bundle of firewood, Prince Iain burned her to wood ash.
Now he had the best wife in Scotland; and the Yellow Filly, that could leave one wind behind her and catch the wind in front; and the Blue Falcon which kept him supplied with plenty of game; and the White Sword of Light to defend him from his enemies.
"You're welcome," said Prince Iain to Gillie Martin the Fox, "to hunt over my ground, and take any beast you want. I'll forbid my servants to fire a single arrow at you, no matter what you do, even if you take a lamb from my flocks."
"Keep your herd of sheep!" said the Fox. "There's plenty of sheep in Scotland without troubling you!"

With that, Gillie Martin the Fox blessed Prince Iain and his Princess, wished them well and went on his way.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: John ThomsonHollingsworth on March 10, 2009, 06:05:11 AM
It took a while to get through this one, but it was worth the time spent.
Thanks Stu

John
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on March 10, 2009, 07:25:54 AM
From Firstfoot.com... King Arthur!

King Arthur in a section dedicated to Scottish myths? Surely some mistake. Arthur and his legendary Knights are the most quintessentially English of legends are they not?

Well, not necessarily.

One thing that is generally agreed on is that Arthur's legend was based on a real historical character who probably existed around the sixth century, and it has long been assumed that he was either English, or more probably, a Welsh Briton.

The problem is, no genuine character has ever been found who fits the profile and there is no real evidence at all to support the theory. Even the name Arthur appears nowhere in English records of the time, although supporters of the legend merely dismiss such detail by insisting that "Arthur" was simply based on someone of a different name. But why change the name of a legend? It just doesn't make sense to do so.

There is compelling evidence, however, to suggest that the story of King Arthur was actually based on a character called Arturius, also known as Artuir, the son of King Aiden of Dalriada, a Scottish territory now known as Argyll.

The Arthurian legend first took hold in the twelfth century thanks mainly to the writings of a certain Geoffrey of Monmouth. A great story-teller, Geoffrey wasn't about to let something as restrictive as the truth get in the way of a fantastic yarn, and it's fair to assume that more than a little "creative license" was put into play. With the passing of the centuries his fiction became ever more widely accepted by later chroniclers as fact.

Monmouth placed Camelot firmly in the south of England, Cornwall to be precise, and Tintagel Castle has built a thriving tourist industry on the back of it.

Unlike the tour buses and tacky souvenirs, however, the corroborating evidence simply isn't there.

The (real) story of Arturius on the other hand does reveal inescapable similarities with the legendary King Arthur that are unmatched by any other historical character.

Arturius was, like Arthur, the son of a powerful King and was, like Arthur, a Christian warrior in a mainly Pagan country.

Arturius was an ally of King Urien, a genuine historical figure also mentioned in legend as being an ally of King Arthur.

Arturius had a sister or half-sister called Morgan, as did King Arthur.

Arturius died in battle against the Picts. In the legend, King Arthur died fighting Mordred, whose mother was married to the King of the Picts.

The battle in which Arturius died took place in the Lothian region of southern Scotland. The ancient poem, the "Gododdin", concerning the Gododdin tribe who inhabited Wales, makes mention of Arthur as a great hero, and is often used as supporting evidence towards Arthur's Welsh origins. The Gododdin tribe, however, originally came from the Lothian region, and it is quite conceivable that Arturius died aiding Welsh Britons against the Picts, and may even have been the leader of a Celtic coalition between the Welsh and Scottish. This would easily explain "Arthur's" existence and standing in Welsh legend.

Arturius is also mentioned in a 7th century chronicle about "The Life of Columba". Columba was a contemporary of and is believed to have acted as an adviser to Arturius' father, King Aiden. Columba's famed powers of prophecy and "miracle" workings make him a perfect model for the role of Merlin.

So why would Monmouth so deliberately play down or ignore the true 6th century origins of his legendary creation?

The answer isn't that hard to understand. By the 12th century, the English considered Scotland to be an aggressive inferior with a corrupted culture. A bit rich, coming from a country only recently invaded and taken over by the Norman French, but there you go.

Such a background would have been totally at odds with the squeaky-clean paragon of virtue that was the hero-king of the legend. Scotland simply wasn't deemed to be capable of producing such a magnificent leader and was, in English eyes at least, entirely unworthy of laying claim to one.

For the story of bold, chivalrous King Arthur to be accredited to a bunch of primitive, dirty, hairy Scots would have been an affront to southern standards.

Simply not acceptable old chap, good heavens no.

Far better, like that other great Scots legend, the Stone of Destiny itself, to simply move it south and steal it in its entirety.


 

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Donna on March 12, 2009, 12:32:15 AM
Hey Stu,
Is that the end of the story  ???
I expected the Fox to have another trick up his furry little sleeve!

Donna
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on March 13, 2009, 10:17:56 AM
a bit about the Scots language...

The Scots Leid, a Personal Keek
by rableather @ Scotland 2005 From the Hamei ldae mi website at http://www.rableather.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/index.html

"Scots:- The collection of dialects deriving from the distinctive Scottis Language which was the official Language of government and literature until the end of the 16th century." Definition supplied by Jim Allen Tutor Strathclyde University, "

When I was little, back in the days when everything was black and white, my mother would cuff my ear for using, what she called, slang. She called anything I said, that was not strictly Queen's English, 'slang'. She went further, she sent me to elocution before school once a week for a year.

Now come forward in time to till about ten years ago, and to the days of full colour. I was in the fourth and final year of my teaching course and it was elective time. I had chosen to do 'Teaching Scots' as an elective. I looked the course specifications over and over and decided this wasn't really the course for me. I went to see the tutor and explained, " Ah dinna think Ah can dae this. Ah canny speak aw word aw Scots."

That was the first time I actually saw someone literally fall off a chair laughing. I just stood there gobsmacked, hadn't a clue what he was laughing at. I had to wait until he recovered enough to explain it to me. You see while I can speak standard English, I wouldn't have been allowed into Jordanhill otherwise, I only do it naturally for four reasons:-
# I do it when I teach, unless I am teaching Scots
# I do it when I am on the phone, to a non Scot
# I do it when I am drunk.
# I do it when my anger has past the red of passion and turned icy white.

I took the man's class and learned many things including the fact that Scottis is a proper language and not a bastardisation of English. Old English and Scottis have a common root but the Wars of Independence forced the Scots to rename their language Scottis from Inglis. These same wars, and the continuing troubles between my country and its near neighbour made trade difficult. So Scotland developed many trading links with Europe.

Language of course is a living breathing thing so it changes otherwise it stagnates. We moved away from Inglis and its subsequent development. We adopted words like ashet, advocate and gigot, brought over from the continent through trading links. Vocabulary that simply has no meaning in English was common in Scotland. Scots, not Gaelic, was the language of Government here.

Politics once again impacts on on the language and the Union of Parliament sounded the death knell for Scottis. No longer the language of government it became second rate and it all but died as a written language.
"...the very stuff of history. It is through written documentation that we mainly perceive our past ....to forget the language is to court disaster."( Witherington DJ in McClure JD (no date) p9)

It did however continue on in the tongue but was frowned upon. The following is from a fictitious account, the book Docharty, by William McIlvanney. While fictitious in nature it is an echo of the nature of many experiences by Scots children educated pre 5-14.

"What's wrong with your face, Docherty?

Skint ma nose, sur.

How?

Ah fell an bumped ma heid in the sheuch, sur.

I beg your pardon?

Ah fell an bumped ma heid in the sheuch, sur.

I beg your pardon?

In the pause Conn understands the nature of the choice, tremblingly, compulsively, makes it.

Ah fell an bumped ma heid in the sheuch, sur.

The blow is instant. His ear seems to enlarge, is muffled in numbness. But it s only the dread of tears that hurts. Mr Pirrie distends on a lozenge of light which mustn't be allowed to break. It doesn't. Conn hasn't cried.

That, Docherty, is impertinence. You will translate, please, into the mother-tongue. "

I would argue with anyone who doesn't relate to this that they were either educated outside Scotland or in a school where the English language indoctrination was particularly effective. Its a bit like saying ' I have never had trouble using Scots notes in England'. Its part of the culture.

So where does the language stand today? According to Murison in SCOLA (1980) (p8) approximately one third of the vocabulary is lost from one generation to the next. He claims (and this claim is backed up by Aitken 1973 p58) that the language will extinct by the turn of the century. This is more particularly true for urban areas than rural.

I have hit the teaching profession fairly heavily in this look at Scottis and rightly so. But I remember vividly one on my introduction language lessons four years before the 'falling off the chair' incident. The lecturer, head of the Primary Education no less, stood up and stated.
"In France, French children study French literature.
In America , American children study American literature
In England, English children study English literature
In Scotland .......... its different"

In Scottish primary schools we study Language, not English. We teach Scots in the local dialect. That for me, is Lallands, but it could be Doric, or even Glaswegian, depends where you live.

I speak the language I learned from my grandmother and grandfather. I speak the language I learned in the playground. It is all I have of my heritage. I can't conjugate a Scots verb, but there is no one left to teach me how to speak that way. However what I have is genuine, and there is nothing false in it.

No it doesn't sound like that which was written by James VI, in the 17th century. Shakespeare was writing in the same period. I have never heard a living English person speak naturally, the same way Shakespeare wrote .

"...it is undeniable that Scots exploits the possibilities of phono aesthetic expression.... to an extent that has no paralleled in Western European Languages." McClure J D 1988 (p54)

I have had a great deal of trouble sticking to Queen's English writing this. Phrases like 'cuff around the ear' do not adequately express what I actually mean. I meant she " skelped ma lug" It encompasses the onomatopoeic qualities of the skelp while portraying the visual aspects of the lug. English, frankly doesn't have those qualities. I used the word 'gobsmacked' but thats no where near as effective as 'dumbfoonart'. I find I can more adequately express myself when speaking in Scots, but I have to revert to English to make myself understood.

I have been accused of speaking 'faux Scots'. I have answered that by explaining where Scots came from, where MY Scots came from and finally by showing that the language has developed. Can I suggest that had my accusers been more able to utilise, what for them is obviously a bastard language, they would not have had to revert to French to describe my Scots.

Oh and there was one more thing I learned in Jim Allen's class, there is no 'g' at the end of Scots verbs which in English would end in 'ing'. So its bletherin no blethering, loupin no louping, keekin no keeking. Yi' ve bin tellt noo!
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Thomas Thompson on March 15, 2009, 12:42:18 PM
Stu
   I don't think I have properly given you the thanks you deserve for all of your inputs.
     THANK YOU!!
tom
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on March 15, 2009, 02:24:38 PM
Tom,
Thanks for the kind words... here and elsewhere.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on March 23, 2009, 12:07:15 PM
Rob Roy MacGregor

The most famous MacGregor of all is, of course, Rob Roy, of the Glengyle branch (1671-1734). Rob Roy was a multi-talented man - a great swordsman and soldier (fighting alongside his father by the age of 18 against William of Orange), an astute businessman, and master of the highland "protection racket". That is, rather than just rustling cattle - the age-old highland way - Rob Roy discovered there was more money in "protecting" cattle for pay. Between 1689 and 1711, Rob Roy stayed at home (he was a loving family man) and prospered his business, increasing his lands and resources.

The legend of Rob Roy MacGregor grew out of his famous feud with the Duke of Montrose. As with all farmers and ranchers, Rob Roy found it difficult to lay hands on ready cash to expand his regular cattle business and turned to Montrose for a loan (or investment money). One of Rob Roy's employees made off with £1000 and Montrose, in his greed, brought charges of embezzlement against Rob hoping to gain his lands. Failing to answer the charge, Rob Roy was declared an outlaw and began his campaign of harassment against the Duke (rustling his cattle).

In 1715, despite his outlaw status, Rob Roy rallied the MacGregor clan and led them in battle against the English, making many successful raids. Afterwards, he was tried for treason and lived life on the run, being captured twice but making spectacular escapes both times. Finally, in 1725, he turned himself in and received a pardon from the king. He died quietly at home in 1734.

Ironically, Rob Roy's mother was a Campbell, and since the name MacGregor was proscribed by William of Orange, Rob Roy used the name Campbell at various times throughout his life and hid (with permission) on the Duke of Argyll's lands while an outlaw.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on March 26, 2009, 10:20:49 AM
A wee bit o Scottish trivia...

Scottish people are called Scots. Things from Scotland are called Scottish, not Scotch, which refers solely to the drink.

James Lind, born Edinburgh, Scotland, October 4, 1716. Established the curative effect of lemon juice on scurvy.

Duncan I was the King of Scotland until he was slain by his cousin, Macbeth, on August 15, 1057. This slaying was the basis for the famous Shakespeare play, "Macbeth."

John Hunter, born East Kilbride, Scotland, February 13, 1728. Wrote The Natural History of the Human Teeth and laid the foundations for dental anatomy and pathology.

The Ghost of Mary Queen of Scots haunts the Talbot Hotel. Her Ghostly figure has been seen walking down the beautiful oak staircase, which was brought from the ruins at Fotheringhay, where she was executed.

Edward I (1272-1307)--think "Long Shanks" in Brave Heart--was so wrapped up in his desire to subdue Scotland that on his death bed he extracted a promise from his son: When Scotland was attacked, his body was to go with the army. After Edward died his body was preserved in oiled linen. The promise was kept for the next two hundred years, his large tomb in Westminister Abbey being opened again and again.

Scotch Tape' is a result of the 3M company's decision to put adhesive only on the edges of its tape. The tape did not work properly and among the returns was the complaint that the company should take back its "Scotch Tape". A reference to the supposed stinginess of Scots people.

The Scots believed in "Samhanach", a goblin who came out only on Samhain and stole children.

Margaret the wife of Malcolm III (King of Scotland) died on November 16, 1093 . She was later declared a saint. To this day in Scotland, the grace cup is called St. Margaret's blessing.

The power of Edgar "the Peaceful" was such that as a sign of his power, Edward was rowed down the River Dee with the oars manned by 8 Kings of tributary kingdoms.

There are three Scottish place names which contain only two letters-Oa, Ae, and Bu.

The Lincoln Monument in Edinburgh's Old Carlton Cemetery was the first statue of an American president to be constructed outside the US.

Carrying a bagpipe was considered to be as much a crime as carrying arms during the Jacobite rebellion, it was classified an "instrument of war"

Loch Lomond is Britain's' largest fresh water lake, 23 miles long and one and a half to five miles wide. There are 24 islands on it.

In 1969 the U.S. astronaut Alan Bean, an American Scot carried a square metre of the MacBeath (MacBean) tartan with him on his historic Apollo XII space mission to the moon.

The Guinness Book of Records shows that the tallest Scotsman and the tallest "true" giant was Angus Macaskill. Born on the island of Berneray off the island of Harris in 1825, Macaskill was 7ft 9in (2.36m) tall. He was also strong, reputedly able to lift a hundredweight (50kg) with two fingers and hold it at arms length for ten minutes. He died on Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, in 1863. A cairn on Berneray commemorates him.

Before the 19th century tartans were not used in the identification of clans in Scotland. The plant badge that the men wore would tell the Scotsman's clan loyalties.

Scotland is the only country in Europe that the Romans could not conquer.

The Scots were the tallest race in Europe, according to the 1909 Census. But the carnage of WW1 changed that. By the 1930s, the average height of men in Scotland had been reduced by 9 inches.

The blue paint that Pictish, and later the Scottish warriors wore in battle was a hallocinogen. It was was the mold from rye.

The first kilts were worn by the Irish not the Scottish. However, many of the Irish moved to Scotland (Alba) and they brought their clothing with them.

Scotland is the only country in the world. that Coca cola is not the best selling soft drink. Irn Bru made by the Barr Company i s the best selling soft drink.

Sheep theft is still legally a hangable offence in Scotland.

There are more pipe bands in America than in Scotland.

The word "whisky" or "whiskey" is derived from the Gaelic uisge breatha meaning "water of life."

The original name of Scotland was Caledonia.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Michael Thompson on March 26, 2009, 09:50:06 PM
Fascinating stuff Stu. I knew about some of them, but a few are new to me.

Scotch Tape' is a result of the 3M company's decision to put adhesive only on the edges of its tape. The tape did not work properly and among the returns was the complaint that the company should take back its "Scotch Tape". A reference to the supposed stinginess of Scots people.

I always heard it was because of the plaid design on the package, but maybe that was a later addition?

Quote
The Scots believed in "Samhanach", a goblin who came out only on Samhain and stole children.

Most of the Celtic people believe that on Samhain (pronounced Sow-inn) the barrier between our world and the next or "otherworld" is the thinnest, and that it becomes possible for those from the otherworld to pass over to ours. Never knew they stole children though.

Quote
Carrying a bagpipe was considered to be as much a crime as carrying arms during the Jacobite rebellion, it was classified an "instrument of war"

There's some controversy over this one, at least in Ireland, where the same tradition is known. The name for the Great Highland Bagpipes in Irish is Piob Mhor, meaning Great Pipes. I imagine it's similar in Scots Gaelic. It's pronounced Peeb Wohr, and is sometimes referred to in English as War Pipes. They were sometimes considered a weapon of war by the English, as they could be used to stir up nationalist sentiment, but there's speculation as to whether the name comes from that or from the Gaelic words.

Quote
Loch Lomond is Britain's' largest fresh water lake, 23 miles long and one and a half to five miles wide. There are 24 islands on it.

Been there, it's a lovely place. However, we were told there's only one actual lake in Scotland, Lake Menteith. All other inland bodies of fresh water are lochs, not lakes. Menteith gets the distinction of being the only lake because of an error in spelling by an English mapmaker, who wrote it down wrong, and his mistake was perpetuated on maps of Scotland since then. Take a look at a map today and you'll see that this has some basis in fact, as Menteith is labeled as a lake, while Lomond, and others are all called Lochs. Interesting speculation at least.

Quote
Before the 19th century tartans were not used in the identification of clans in Scotland. The plant badge that the men wore would tell the Scotsman's clan loyalties.

I've not only heard that, I've read it in a fairly authoritative account, namely the book "So You're Going to Wear the Kilt" http://www.amazon.com/So-Youre-Going-Wear-Kilt/dp/185217126X/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1238127576&sr=8-1 (http://www.amazon.com/So-Youre-Going-Wear-Kilt/dp/185217126X/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1238127576&sr=8-1)by J. Charles Thompson (a relative no less!). Thompson's story is that the modern system of clan tartans was developed by cloth merchants, who wanted to create a market for their wares by capitalizing on family and national pride. They supposedly invented the whole story of each clan using native plants and therefore having different colors, and the idea that the natural plant coloring agents would fade over the years, creating the "ancient" versions of tartans, sometimes known as "muted."

That brings up the question though, what is the plant badge for Thompson? I've seen the Campbells wearing something in their bonnets, but I don't know what ours is.

Quote
Scotland is the only country in Europe that the Romans could not conquer.

Depends on how you define "could not." Ireland was never conquered by the Romans either, basically because by the time imperial expansion got that far West, the Vandals and Visigoths were harassing the Roman armies closer to home, and the Empire collapsed before they made a determined foothold there.

They did however, make significant inroads into what is today Britain. In the late fourth century and early fifth century when a young man named Maewyn Succat was growing up in western Britain, near the border between modern Wales and Scotland. His father was an official of the local branch of the Roman government. They may not have conquered Scotland as a nation, but they certainly had a major presence in the area.

Quote
The blue paint that Pictish, and later the Scottish warriors wore in battle was a hallocinogen. It was was the mold from rye.

That explains a lot.  :D

Quote
The first kilts were worn by the Irish not the Scottish. However, many of the Irish moved to Scotland (Alba) and they brought their clothing with them.

Thanks. That gives me a good answer to my Irish friends who wonder when I wear the kilt to Irish events. It also jibes with the fact that Scotland was so named by the Romans, because the Scotti lived there. Scotti was the Roman name for the Irish people, and some of them had emigrated to what is now Scotland. Before that, as you point out, it was called Alba.

Quote
Scotland is the only country in the world. that Coca cola is not the best selling soft drink. Irn Bru made by the Barr Company is the best selling soft drink.

Fine stuff it is too. Wish we had something similar in the US. It is definitely a source of Scottish national pride though, and widely available around the country.

Quote
The word "whisky" or "whiskey" is derived from the Gaelic uisge breatha meaning "water of life."

It's Bheatha, with no "r" but yes, it does seem to be the source of the word whiskey in its various forms around the world. In Irish, it's pronounced Eeshka Bahah or Eeshka Vahah. Again, probably similar in Scots Gaelic, though I'm not familiar with pronunciation of Scots Gaelic, so I can only presume it's similar.

Quote
The original name of Scotland was Caledonia.

Didn't know that, but it explains the beautiful song "Caledonia" http://www.amazon.com/Caledonia/dp/B001HE0Y3Q/ref=sr_f2_1?ie=UTF8&s=dmusic&qid=1238129054&sr=102-1 (http://www.amazon.com/Caledonia/dp/B001HE0Y3Q/ref=sr_f2_1?ie=UTF8&s=dmusic&qid=1238129054&sr=102-1)

Great post Stu. Really piqued my interest. Does it show?

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Donna on March 26, 2009, 11:53:27 PM
Thank you Stu   :-*

Donna
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Beverly Kohn(Thompson) on March 27, 2009, 07:10:54 AM
  Hey Michael! I loved your comments , here's a little more on Samhain.
The Celts had 2 most magical days of the year,Beltaine (1st of May) and Samhian(1st of Nov.)-Halloween to us. The in-between times. The place or time between night and day,summer and winter,the shoreline of lakes and rivers,bridges, etc. It was a time of fairies, ghosts, demons and witches. Samhain is their night of release from the underworld. Many people lit bonfires  and torches to keep away spirits-(jack-o-lanterns). It was also a time to honor the dead.
Sir Walter Scott wrote:
On Hallowmas Eve, ere ye boune to rest,
Ever beware that your couch be blest;
Sign it with the cross and sain it with bread,
sing the Ave and the creed.
For on Hallowmas Eve,the night Hag shall ride,
and her nine-fold sweeping on by her side;
whether the wind sing lowly or loud,
Stealing through moonshine or swathed in cloud.
He that dare sit in St. Swithin's chair,
when the night
hag wings the troubled air,
Questions three, when he speaks the spell,
He must ask and she must tell.

For us ghost hunters 3:00 a.m. is the best time to communicate with spirits, we call it dead time, seems to work!  Just a little info on Samhian, there's always more if anyone is interested.
        Bev
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Pamela K. Thompson on March 27, 2009, 08:08:46 AM
Stu, Michael, and Beverly..... Tell us more! My daughter Katey will love this stuff! One day she will post again but you'll have to forgive her for now as she is busy turning 14! Today is her birthday. :) She's really showing an interest and on her own has found some contemporary Celtic, Gaelic, bands and shared their music with us. Some of them are pretty darn good. She's even attempted to play "Black Velvet Band" on her guitar. She has friends who are German and Italian descent one a 2nd gen Italian and has really identified with the fact that the Romans were unable to "subdue" the Scots. (Fiercely independant we are and we don't identify with that at all of course! :D) I am learning a lot and hope to be able to contribute as well. Beverly, please share more.  Karma
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Beverly Kohn(Thompson) on March 27, 2009, 11:08:39 AM
    Thank you Pamela, I will send more on Samhain later on when I get a minute. Tell Katie if she likes scottish battle music, drums and pipes, we in the clan have a favorite band, Albannach. They really put a new spin on it, kind of a modern rock'n roll twist, They are a blast to watch and see in person. A few of us ladies have a little crush on Jamesie he's the one with long hair and plays bass drum. You can google them at Albannach,scottish band and hear their music or watch videos, check them out.
    yours in family and spirit
            Bev
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Beverly Kohn(Thompson) on March 27, 2009, 12:49:55 PM
 I guess I should start this journey with a little history of the Celts in Scotland. About 10,000 years ago the North of Europe was covered in ice; when it melted the immigration to the British Isles started. Tribes from Galia and Belgium came to Scotland. In the year 1,000 b.c. the Celts were one of the most important civilizations in Europe. They were organized in tribes and their language changed regionally. They were farmers,they worked in metals like bronze and practiced Druidism.
    The Celts choose their own Chiefs. Their religion was based on the adoration of the three elements; Sun,Water,Earth. They wore metal rings around their necks to symbolize their authority. They had lots of Celtic knots. They drew animals not humans. The circle is the supreme Celtic symbol and represents the Sun, the life source. In the 5th century when Christianity came to Scotland, the Celtic circle and the cross were put together and the Celtic Cross was created.
     Around 500 b.c. the Celtic culture was well established in Scotland. The Picts or Caledonians, called that by Romans because they tatooed their bodies and painted their faces dark blue before going to war,(like William Wallace in the movie!),occupied the north of Scotland and the South of what is today Edinburgh and Glasgow,were the British tribes. The Romans could not occupy the area of Edinburgh and Glasgow so they built Antonia Wall to divide the territory they could not control,the Caledonian territory. The famous Adrians Wall in the north of England was the northern boundary of the Roman territroy.
 I will take it from here to the myths that came from this time at a later time I hope you don't think I'm rambling!  :-\
      Bev
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Paula Cash Womack on March 27, 2009, 01:17:38 PM
Thank you all for the historical facts and trivia.
I really appreciate your research.
It brings so many things I have heard to life.

Thank you again.
Paula
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Michael Thompson on March 27, 2009, 09:59:56 PM
Tell Katie if she likes scottish battle music, drums and pipes, we in the clan have a favorite band, Albannach. They really put a new spin on it, kind of a modern rock'n roll twist, They are a blast to watch and see in person.

They certainly are a blast, especially in person. We saw them at Estes Park last year.  Check these out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uY_UqOZE1Kg (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uY_UqOZE1Kg)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LYl5fOWqy4 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LYl5fOWqy4)
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Pamela K. Thompson on March 29, 2009, 10:10:48 AM
No you are not rambling! Keep it coming! I will now check out Albannach from Michaels links! :) Karma
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Pamela K. Thompson on March 29, 2009, 10:56:17 AM
W-0-0-0-W. Ladies, Jamsie? O.O YES.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Mary on March 29, 2009, 01:22:03 PM
OMG...........ANOTHER one falls for Jamsie! I guess I'm going to have to take another look!  :-\
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Pamela K. Thompson on March 29, 2009, 05:47:57 PM
I just read The Curse. That was one mean hearted Christian wonder where he went when he died? :o
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Beverly Kohn(Thompson) on March 30, 2009, 11:16:58 AM
Part 2: Bevs' Celtic Journey:
The Celtic Wheel of the Year:
    The Celtic calendar was Lunar based,with 13 months. Extra days were added as needed at New Years as a "time between times". The wheel of the year was divided into 8 segments each with a corresponding festival. the 4 Fire festivals take place on the last evening of the month and the following day because the Celts,like the Jews, count a day from sunset to sunset. That's why we celebrate All Hallows Eve, Midsummers Eve,and so on. These 4 fire festivals are tied to the agricultural cycle.
     1st- Samhain- Oct. 31st-Nov.1st- It is the end of harvest,the beginning of winter and once marked the Celtic New Year. Normal rules of human behavior do not apply, and one can "Run Wild". I've already gone into Samhian previously.
     2nd-Imbolc- celebrated Feb.1-2 (later transformed into Candlemas by the church),and now popular as GroundHog Day. It marked the beginning of spring,the beginning of new life(the beginning of lambing season). Dedicated to the ancient mother goddess in her maiden aspect, it was later transformed into a feast day for the Irish saint of the same name, and attributes, St. Bigid.
     3rd- Beltane- In Scots gaelic-May Day- April30-May 1st. The Myth surrounding this festival is common to many ancient pagan religions. The god Bel (or Cernunnos, the horned god of Ireland), dies but is reborn as the Goddess' son. He then impregnates her ensuring the neverending cycle of rebirth. This is very basic fertility worship. May Day traditions include young people picking flowers in the woods (spending the night there) and dancing around the May Pole,weaving red(for the God) and white(for the Godess) streamers round and round. On May Day itself the Highland tradition has the entire community leading the cattle to summer pasturage, not to return until Samhain.
     4th- Lughnasadh- (Lammas in England)- the feast of the God Lugh and the first fruits of the harvest (generally wheat and corn). July31st- Aug 1st, In Scotland the first stalks of corn are called "John Barleycorn", of course and was used to make the first beer of the season. Now, John Barleycorn refers to that greatest of Scots drinks, (many distilleries are closed for August, reopening for the fall whisky-making season on Sept.1st.).At Lammas. the Corn King dies, to be reborn at spring, ensuring plenty for winter.

  Until next time- yours in family and spirit!  Bev
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Pamela K. Thompson on March 30, 2009, 02:22:53 PM
 :D Thank you so much Barb. I have a recipe for Meade and is to be started at Winter Solstice, ready for Beltane, I never knew what it actually was until now. It makes sense. I gave away most of what I made, and made it late summer, served it at Christmas. Wine my foot. That stuff knocked our socks off and the more you sipped the smoother it got! I aged one bottle until mid-summer and then we opened it and sipped, it was soooo smoooth. Very dangerous stuff. Haven't made it since. Basically it is honey, hazelnuts, and water and of course your accelorator. Are Hazelnuts native to the islands? I'm going to google it!  Keep going!   Karma
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Michael Thompson on March 30, 2009, 08:11:03 PM
July31st- Aug 1st, In Scotland the first stalks of corn are called "John Barleycorn", of course and was used to make the first beer of the season. Now, John Barleycorn refers to that greatest of Scots drinks, (many distilleries are closed for August, reopening for the fall whisky-making season on Sept.1st.).

Wonderful summary Bev. It reminded me of a Robert Burns poem that has been done in many different forms as songs. Maybe this should be in the poetry thread, but it seems to work here.

Quote
I.

    There were three kings into the east,
      Three kings both great and high;
    And they hae sworn a solemn oath
      John Barleycorn should die.

II.

    They took a plough and plough'd him down,
      Put clods upon his head;
    And they ha'e sworn a solemn oath
      John Barleycorn was dead.

III.

    But the cheerful spring came kindly on,
      And show'rs began to fall;
    John Barleycorn got up again,
      And sore surpris'd them all.

IV.

    The sultry suns of summer came,
      And he grew thick and strong;
    His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears
      That no one should him wrong.

V.

    The sober autumn enter'd mild,
      When he grew wan and pale;
    His beading joints and drooping head
      Show'd he began to fail.

VI.

    His colour sicken'd more and more,
      He faded into age;
    And then his enemies began
      To show their deadly rage.

VII.

    They've ta'en a weapon, long and sharp,
      And cut him by the knee;
    Then ty'd him fast upon a cart,
      Like a rogue for forgerie.

VIII.

    They laid him down upon his back,
      And cudgell'd him full sore;
    They hung him up before the storm.
      And turn'd him o'er and o'er.

IX.

    They filled up a darksome pit
      With water to the brim;
    They heaved in John Barleycorn,
      There let him sink or swim.

X.

    They laid him out upon the floor,
      To work him farther woe;
    And still, as signs of life appear'd,
      They toss'd him to and fro.

XI.

    They wasted o'er a scorching flame
      The marrow of his bones;
    But a miller us'd him worst of all--
      He crush'd him 'tween the stones.

XII.

    And they ha'e ta'en his very heart's blood,
      And drank it round and round;
    And still the more and more they drank,
      Their joy did more abound.

XIII.

    John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
      Of noble enterprise;
    For if you do but taste his blood,
      'Twill make your courage rise.

XIV.

    'Twill make a man forget his woe;
      'Twill heighten all his joy:
    'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
      Tho' the tear were in her eye.

XV.

    Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
      Each man a glass in hand;
    And may his great posterity
      Ne'er fail in old Scotland!

To John Barleycorn!
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Beverly Kohn(Thompson) on March 31, 2009, 09:49:28 AM
  Thank you Karma and Michael! There's nothing better than a good drink , a nice fire and Rabbie Burns!!!  Bev
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Pamela K. Thompson on April 01, 2009, 07:39:23 AM
Amen. ;) Karma
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Beverly Kohn(Thompson) on April 02, 2009, 11:47:08 AM
Part III : Celtic Journey.
   The other 4 holidays of the Celtic year celebrate the spring and fall equinoxes and the winter and summer solstices. Each name contains the word "Alban", meaning "light of ". The name for ancient Scotland was Alba.
 1st- Alban Arthurian-(light of Arthur). Like winter solstice celebrations all over the world, celebrates the return of the sun following the shortest day of the year. From ancient Celtic and Norse mythology we enjoy such holiday traditions as holly & mistletoe(sacred to the Druids), the yule log, Santa Claus in his aspects as Father Christmas or the Holly King.
    Supposedly, King Arthur was born on the winter sostice(he too will come again). Ireland celebrates Christmas much more enthusiastically than Scotland. Under the Kirk at it's strictest, Christmas was viewed as an idolatrous celebration and not observed. Today, the Scots put most of their merry making efforts into Hogmanay, the New Years celebration.
  2nd - Alban Eiler (light of the Earth)- is the spring Equinox. The equinoxes were considered a time of balance, not only dark and light, but between worlds as well and, therefore a time of high magical potential. This festival signified the time for spring planting and fertility rituals.
   3rd- Alban Heruin-(light of the shore). It is celebrated as Midsummer's Day with games, picnics, and all manner of fun. The antics of "A Midsummer's Night Dream" by Shakespeare well captures the spirit of this festival, including, the interaction between our people and of the faery world.
    4th- Alban Elved-(light of water). It is observed at the Autumn equinox. It is a very sacred time when the line between world's is thin and magical possibilities abound. We find in Celtic mythology, a strong foundation in ancient goddess (mother earth), merged with the peculiar emphasis on the otherworld and it's accessibility to mankind found in the Druid religion. More than any people, perhaps, the Celts live with one foot in this world and one in the other.The Driud belief was that we are composed of mind, body, and spirit,(christianity likewise believes  this), with spirit acting as bonding agent between body and mind. Thereby we are able to travel between worlds, if we know how, or if we were born with the gift. Combined with the Druidic belief in reincarnation, there is little fear of the otherworld and the faery world is simply an alternate reality rather than a higher plane.
   Will be back soon with more exciting tales.
           Bev
   
 


Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on April 03, 2009, 09:28:34 AM
Fee'ing Fairs

Through the "improvement" years of the early and mid 1700s in Scotland, farming developed into a labour intensive industry providing work for thousands of North East folk. Landowners leased their land in lots to farmers for agreed terms who in turn employed labourers for the seasonal work.

The workers were signed for six month working terms at the fee'ing fairs which took place in the market towns at Whitsun and Martinmas in late November. At the bigger farms, the "fairm-toons", the farmers employed a grieve as a general manager. Next in line was the ploughman, the most respected and best paid of the workers.

Then came the orra-man or cattleman and after him the general labourers and the orra-loon, a young jack of all trades. The unmarried men, the "bothy loons", lived in the farm bothy, a small, very basic building usually built on to the side of the cattle byre. Women too were appointed for set terms, usually to work in the kitchens, cooking for the farmer's family and the "bothy loons." These "kitchie deems" (kitchen dames or girls) were kept hard at work under the watchful eye of the farmer's wife.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Pamela K. Thompson on April 04, 2009, 11:04:50 AM
Stu and Bev, I really enjoy all of the information you are sharing! I feel more connected the more I know and some of it just intrigues me to learn more. Karma
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on April 06, 2009, 11:11:26 AM
      Scottish Naming Customs

    "The general custom, to which there were some variations, was to name children as follows:-

    The eldest son after the paternal grandfather
    The second son after the maternal grandfather
    The third son after the father
    The eldest daughter after the maternal grandmother
    The second daughter after the paternal grandmother
    The third daughter after the mother

    Younger children would be named after earlier forebears, but the pattern in their case was less settled."

    ("In search of Scottish Ancestry" by Gerald Hamilton-Edwards, Phillimore, 1983 Edition).
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on April 06, 2009, 11:54:45 AM
A little something for us "cat people"...

The Scottish Fold

Breed Description: The Scottish Fold is an unusual looking breed. They are medium-sized muscular cat with a fairly heavy bone structure and famous for having ears that fold forward and downward. The tips of their ears are rounded and they are set on their head in cap-like fashion. They have a round head with large, expressive eyes, a long tapering tail, and a dense, double coat that is very soft and resilient.

History & Origin: This breed started in 1961 when a white cat with folded ears was born in Perthshire, Scotland. The male kitten, Snowball, was bred with suitable domestic shorthairs and soon became an established new breed named the Scottish Fold.

Character & Temperament: This breed has a sweet nature. They are generally laid back and respectful of people and property. Scottish Folds get along well with other cats and dogs if introduced properly. They are slow to anger and more likely to remove themselves from a situation than become aggressive. This makes them excellent companions for children. They have quiet voices and are seldom vocal. They enjoy the company of people, but also do fine when left on their own during the day.

Color: The Scottish Fold can be any color or pattern that is considered "natural" for a domestic cat. The most common colors include blue, white, red, black and cream, sometimes with white and tabby markings.

Coat Type: This breed has a dense and soft double coat that stands out from the body instead of lying flat.

Grooming: The Scottish Fold's coat can be kept in top condition with minimal grooming. When the cat is shedding, a rubber mitt or brush will help loosen and remove dead hair. Claws should be trimmed and ears cleaned only when necessary.

Health Considerations: This breed is not normally crossed with each other due to the possibility of genetic defects resulting in skeletal abnormalities. White cats are prone to deafness.

Trivia: Scottish Folds usually average 5 kittens per litter, with only 2 of the kittens developing the trademark folded ears.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on April 14, 2009, 10:38:18 AM
Three shillings and ten pence

In the early days of the nineteenth century, an Edinburgh priest who had moved to Perth, called Father McKay, was approached by a woman who had been troubled for sometime by a conscience-stricken ghost. The problem was solved without the need for exorcism or dramatic intervention of any kind. Anne Simpson, the woman who sought after Father McKay's assistance, was not of the Catholic faith, but she had good reason for asking the help of a Catholic priest. It turned out that the ghost that had been appearing to her night after night was that of a woman whom she had know as a familiar figure around the army barracks nearby. The woman's name was Molloy, and she had worked in the barracks laundry. Mrs. Molloy's ghost, when it appeared to Anne Simpson, was most persistent. Mrs. Molloy owed money - three shillings and ten pence. She wanted Anne Simpson to tell a priest and ask him to set matters right. So here was Anne Simpson, tired of constantly interrupted sleep, doing the bidding of a ghost! Lesser men might have sent the poor woman away and told her to stop talking such nonsense, but Father McKay listened to her story patiently and assured her he would see what he could do. He made enquiries at the barracks first of all. Sure enough, there had been a woman called Molloy working there, but she had died some time before. Had she owed any money to anybody in the barracks, the priest wanted to know. No, she had not owed any money there. The priest had to take his search a little farther a field. Visiting local traders, he found himself in the grocer's shop. When he asked about Mrs. Molloy, he discovered that when she had died she was in debt to the grocer. And the amount of the debt? Three shillings and ten pence exactly. The kindly priest settled the outstanding amount and left the shop. When he saw Anne Simpson some days later, he asked whether Mrs. Molloy's ghost had appeared to her recently. He was quite relieved to hear that the ghost seemed to have gone. Obviously the spirit of Mrs. Molloy felt at peace now that she had got all her affairs in order!
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Beverly Kohn(Thompson) on April 15, 2009, 12:15:54 PM
   What a wonderful story Stirling! I love to hear about spirits who have been helped and can move on to the other side instead of remaining in limbo. I just love all your stories!
    Bev
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on April 16, 2009, 07:32:48 PM
Bev and Stu, thanks for these wonderful stories.  Looking forward to more.

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Thomas Thompson on May 04, 2009, 10:59:09 AM
                 WHITSUNDAY: MAY

       As I was a-wand’ring ae morning in spring,
       I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing;
       And as he was singin’, thir words he did say,-
       There’s nae life like the ploughman’s in the month o’ sweet May.
       The lav’rock in the morning she’ll rise frae her nest,
       And mount I’ the air wi’ the dew on her breast,
       And wi’the merry ploughman she’ll whistle and sing,
       And at night she’ll return to her nest back again.
         ‘The Ploughman’s Song’  Robert Burns

Given our weather, the ancient Celts celebrated the commencement of summer
In the feast of Beltane on 1 May. Here we had another fire festival, for Beltane means ‘the fires of the god Bel’ and bonfires were lit on the tops of the largest hills and celebration of fertility lasted the night.
      At Beltane when the ilke bodie bownis
      To Peblis to the play
      To heir the singing and soundis
       The solace suth to say
The tradition was rekindled in the 1980s by the Beltane Fire Society in Edinburgh.
Since then held a boisterous festival every year on the night of 30 Apr/1 May on top Calton Hill at the bottom of Princes Street. (I warn of nudity and some uninhibited behaviour). White Warrior Women (who guard the May Queen), Blue men ( druid
Spirit guides), lusty Red Men (who spread mischief). All must pass through a gateway of fire and process round points representing the other elements before the symbolic arrival of the Green Men (heralds summer beginning). Then the party continues!!!
   Pretending to sacrificing people by jumping ov’ a fire (not usually in kilts)
“See the novel Witch Wood or cult film The Wicker Man.”
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Beverly Kohn(Thompson) on May 04, 2009, 12:01:09 PM
    Hey,Thomas! What great info. May Day is a very magical time for almost all heritages but we Scots seem to take it up a notch! :o Sounds like a great party, would love to be there!
           Bev
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on May 05, 2009, 10:36:40 AM
Blacksmith Priests

Located on the old coaching route between London and Edinburgh, Gretna Green was the first village reached once you entered Scotland. Lovers from south of the Border soon took advantage of the Scottish Law and it resulted in a thriving marriage trade being set up in Gretna Green. Marriages became a lucrative business and a variety of men set themselves up as 'priests'. One of the first was Joseph Paisley who was a fisherman and smuggler. He set up in one of the original marriage venues; the World Famous Old Blacksmith's Shop. This was a working smithy and therefore a focal point of the village.

Romantically the Anvil became the enduring symbol of Gretna Green Weddings. This is because of the many 'Blacksmith Priests' of flamboyant character who conducted ceremonies within the Blacksmith's Shop. They would declare "As hammer and anvil join metal together in the heat of the fire, I hereby join this couple together in the heat of the moment".
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on May 14, 2009, 10:02:18 AM
Cripple Goat

Here is a harvest-custom which was formerly observed in Skye. The farmer who first finished reaping sent a man or woman with a sheaf to a neighbouring farmer who had not finished; the latter in his turn, when he had finished, sent on the sheaf to his neighbour who was still reaping; and so the sheaf made the round of the farms till all the corn was cut.

The sheaf was called the goabbir bhacagh, that is, the Cripple Goat. The custom appears not to be extinct at the present day, for it was reported from Skye not very many years ago. The corn-spirit was probably thus represented as lame because he had been crippled by the cutting of the corn. Sometimes the old woman who brings home the last sheaf must limp on one foot.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on June 01, 2009, 05:31:51 AM
Caddies

When Mary, later Queen of Scots, went to France as a young girl (for education and survival), Louis, King of France, learned that she loved the Scot game of golf. So he had the first golf course outside of Scotland built for her enjoyment.

To make sure that she was properly chaperoned (and guarded) while she played, Louis hired cadets from a military school to accompany her. Mary liked this, and when she returned to Scotland (not a very good idea in the long run), she took the practice with her. In French the word cadet is pronounced "ca-day" and the Scots changed it into "caddie."
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on June 16, 2009, 06:28:38 AM
The Harvest Old Wife (a Cailleach)

On the remote Hebridean island of Tiree, in harvest, there was a struggle to escape from being the last done with the shearing, and when tillage in common existed, instances were known of a ridge being left unshorn (no person would claim it) because of it being behind the rest. The fear entertained was that of having the ‘famine of the farm’ (gort a bhaile), in the shape of an imaginary old woman (cailleach), to feed till next harvest.

Much emulation and amusement arose from the fear of this old woman. The first done made a doll of some blades of corn, which was called the ‘old wife,’ and sent it to his nearest neighbour. He in turn, when ready, passed it to another still less expeditious, and the person it last remained with had ‘the old woman’ to keep for that year.”
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on June 19, 2009, 08:36:56 AM
Rashie Coat
(This is the Scottish version of Cinderella.)

Rashie Coat was a king’s daughter, and her father wanted her to be married; but she didna like the man. Her father said she had to tak him; and she didna ken what to do. Sae she gaed awa’ to the hen-wife to speer what she should do. And the hen-wife said: ‘Say ye winna tak him unless they gie ye a coat o’ the beaten gowd.’ Weel, they ga’e her a coat o’ the beaten gowd; but she didna want to tak him for a’ that. Sae she gaed to the hen-wife again, and the hen-wife said: ‘Say ye winna tak him unless they gie ye a coat made o’ the feathers o’ a’ the birds o’ the air.’ Sae the king sent a man wi’ a great heap o’ corn; and the man cried to a’ the birds o’ the air: ‘Ilka bird tak up a pea and put down a feather; ilka bird tak up a pea and put down a feather.’ Sae ilka bird took up a pea and put down a feather and they took a’ the feathers and made a coat o’ them, and ga’e it to Rashiecoat; but she didna want to tak him for a’ that. Weel, she gaed to the hen-wife again, and speered what she should do; and the hen-wife said: ‘Say ye winna tak him unless they gie ye a coat o’ rashes and a pair o’ slippers.’ Weel, they ga’e her a coat o’ rashes and a pair o’ slippers; but she didna want to tak him for a’ that. Sae she gaed to the hen-wife again, and the hen-wife said she couldna help her ony mair.

Weel, she left her father’s hoose, and gaed far, and far, and farer nor I can tell; and she cam to a king’s hoose, and she gaed in till’t. And they speered at her what she was seeking, and she said she was seeking service; and they ga’e her service and set her into the kitchen to wash the dishes, and tak oot the aise, and a’ that. And whan the Sabbath-day cam, they a’ gaed to the kirk, and left her at hame to cook the dinner. And there was a fairy cam to her, and telt her to put on her coat o’ the beaten gowd, and gang to the kirk. And she said she couldna gang, for she had to cook the dinner; and the fairy telt her to gang, and she would cook the dinner for her. And she said

    'Aw peat gar anither peat burn,
    Ae spit gar anither spit turn,
    Ae pat gar anither pat play,
    Let Rashie-coat gang to the kirk the day.’

Sae Rashie—coat put on her coat o’ the beaten gowd, and gaed awa’ to the kirk. And the king’s son fell in love wi’ her; but she cam hame afore the kirk scaled, and he couldna find oot wha she was. And whan she cam hame she faund the dinner cookit, and naebody kent she had been oot.

Weel, the niest Sabbath-day, the fairy cam again, and telt her to put on the coat o’ feathers o’ a’ the birds o’ the air, an’ gang to the kirk, and she would cook the dinner for her. Weel, she put on the coat o’ feathers, and gaed to the kirk. And she cam oot afore it scaled; and when the king’s son saw her gaun oot, he gaed oot too; but he couldna find oot wha she was. And she got hame, and took aff the coat o’ feathers, and faund the dinner cookit, and naebody kent she had been oot.

And the niest Sabbath-day, the fairy cam till her again, and telt her to put on the coat o’ rashes and the pair o’ slippers, and gang to the kirk again. Aweel, she did it a’; and this time the king’s son sat near the door, and when he saw Rashie-coat slippin’ oot afore the kirk scaled, he slippit oot too and grippit her. And she got awa’ frae him, and ran hame; but she lost ane o’ her slippers, and he took it up. And he gared cry through a’ the country, that onybody that could get the slipper on, he would marry them. Sae a’ the leddies o’ the court tried to get the slipper on, and it wadna fit nane o’ them. And the auld hen-wife cam and fush her dochter to try and get it on, and she nippit her fit, and clippit her fit, and got it on that way. Sae the king’s son was gaun to marry her. And he was takin’ her awa’ to marry her, ridin’ on a horse, an’ her ahint him; and they cam to a wood, and there was a bird sittin on a tree, and as they gaed by, the bird said:

‘Nippit fit and clippit fit
Ahint the king’s son rides
But bonny fit and pretty fit
Ahint the caudron hides.’

And when the king’s son heard this, he flang aff the hen-wife’s dochter, and cam hame again, and lookit ahint the caudron, and there he faund Rashie-coat greetin’ for her slipper. And he tried her fit wi’ the slipper, and it gaed on fine. Sae he married her.

    AND THEY LIVED HAPPY AND HAPPY,
    AND NEVER DRANK OOT O’ A DRY CAPPY.

Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Pamela K. Thompson on June 19, 2009, 08:18:28 PM
Bev and Stu, Just wanted to let you know that I am still reading the stories you are posting. Love them! MORE, MORE!   :) and Thank You.  Karma
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on June 23, 2009, 08:18:50 AM
Romeo and Juliet in the Marches! A sad, true tale of star-crossed lovers!

It was illegal for a cross-border marriage to take place without the Warden's permission. Archie Graham, a bonny Scottish lad, did not ask the Warden for permission to marry his sweetheart Mary Fenwick, an English girl from near Haltwhistle. With a child on the way they decided to marry and they left England to live in Scotland, near Archie’s relatives. Sometimes they managed to visit Mary’s parents by night.

Soon after the baby was born, the Warden got to hear about Archie and Mary. They were arrested and taken back to Haltwhistle where they were tried and hanged in the market place. Mary’s parents took over the upbringing of her son.

The incident took place in 1587 not long after the imprisoned Mary Queen of Scots, a Catholic, was executed by Queen Elizabeth I of England, a Protestant. Tensions in the Borders were running high.

The Story of Archie and Mary

We all know what death is around here. We've had our fair share of raiding and killing. We give as good as we get; we have to, to survive. This vast open country is harsh; it frightens me sometimes, wondering where the next raid is coming from and if my cattle will be stolen. Although my bastle is well defended and my kinsmen help when the raids come, you can never really sleep soundly in your beds at night, you're always waiting for the worst to happen.

The Border's rotten. My dad told me about battles like Flodden, about the thousands of English and Scots who slaughtered each other, while he and his kin stripped the dead on the battlefield afterwards. He told me he didn't give a damn about English and Scots, and that what matters is the name you had as a borderer. It's the same still: the people who matter most are the ones who stick by you. We get robbed from all sides, Scots from over the border sometimes but just as often by Englishmen, like the Charltons from the North Tyne, or the Robsons. You soon find out who your friends are. Nobody really keeps proper control, not the Earls, not the ones in the big castles or the Wardens who are supposed to keep order. They look after themselves. But they lay down the law, and we have to suffer for breaking their so-called rules.

Our Mary broke those rules. She was my only surviving child, but now the Wardens have hanged her. For what? Not blackmail, murder or reiving - but no. Love. What did she do? I'll tell you...

Archie Graham was a young Scot. A lad we knew well. Outstanding - especially as he had this mop of red hair. Always larking about. A frequent visitor to our village, bringing cattle along the drove road south. A strong, well-armed lad, good to have on your side in a fight. But you should have seen his face when he looked at our Mary!

Mary was a real looker; golden hair and incredibly dark eyes. I'd spend a lot of my time keeping an eye on her whenever the young lads came round. But those two managed to give me the slip, and in the end I gave up wasting my energy. Perhaps I should have kept a tighter rein on her, but there's so much work to do looking after the beasts on the upland pastures and looking after the beans and onions in the garden, that it was impossible.

Of course I was worried. She was a Fenwick and English, and he was a Scottish Graham. Not that it mattered to us round here. As I 've said, we respect the family groups more than we do the differences between English and Scots. But I did know the law and the law said that cross border marriages should not happen. The inevitable happened. My lass and Archie couldn't live without each other. When Mary realised that a bairn was on the way she told me everything. She told me that she and Archie would be married, that they would not have it any other way, and that she wanted him and the child more than anything else in the world.

What could I do? I scraped what little money I had together, and gave it to them with my blessing. It was nice to think of myself as a grandad, as all our other children had died before they were five. The two of them went off over the border to live near Archie's family. I just hoped that they would get away with it, that we were too insignificant for the Wardens to bother with, but I was wrong.Hanging of Archie

Time passed. They came to see me sometimes at night, so I kept in touch with them. They were so happy. We should have known better. The blow fell shortly after the baby was born. The warden's guards arrested them in Scotland, dragged them off to court, and accused them of getting married without the Warden's permission. They were sentenced to be hanged and me and my wife were forced to watch, there in the market place at Haltwhistle. I had to watch their bodies twitch, still suspended by the rope, long after they were dropped.

And what about the bairn? In my old age I have dreamed of a grandchild. I have made a little basket of thatched reeds. I have begun to make toys. I will look after him. He is all I have left.

 

Edward Fenwick of Haltwhistle, 1587(Grandfather of Mary Fenwick)
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on June 26, 2009, 10:12:09 AM
From Tales From Scottish Ballads, by Elizabeth W. Grierson


THE LOCHMABEN HARPER

    "Oh, heard ye of a silly harper,
      Wha lang lived in Lochmaben town,
    How he did gang to fair England,
      To steal King Henry's wanton brown?"


Once upon a time, there was an old man in Lochmaben, who made his
livelihood by going round the country playing on his harp. He was very
old, and very blind, and there was such a simple air about him, that
people were inclined to think that he had not all his wits, and they
always called him "The silly Lochmaben Harper."

Now Lochmaben is in Dumfriesshire, not very far from the English border,
and the old man sometimes took his harp and made long journeys into
England, playing at all the houses that he passed on the road.

Once when he returned from one of these journeys, he told everyone how
he had seen the English King, King Henry, who happened to be living at
that time at a castle in the north of England, and although he thought
the King a very fine-looking man indeed, he thought far more of a frisky
brown horse which his Majesty had been riding, and he had made up his
mind that some day it should be his.

All the people laughed loudly when they heard this, and looked at one
another and tapped their foreheads, and said, "Poor old man, his brain
is a little touched; he grows sillier, and sillier;" but the Harper only
smiled to himself, and went home to his cottage, where his wife was busy
making porridge for his supper.

"Wife," he said, setting down his harp in the corner of the room, "I am
going to steal the King of England's brown horse."

"Are you?" said his wife, and then she went on stirring the porridge.
She knew her husband better than the neighbours did, and she knew that
when he said a thing, he generally managed to do it.

The old man sat looking into the fire for a long time, and at last he
said, "I will need a horse with a foal, to help me: if I can find that,
I can do it."

"Tush!" said his wife, as she lifted the pan from the fire and poured
the boiling porridge carefully into two bowls; "if that is all that thou
needest, the brown horse is thine. Hast forgotten the old gray mare thou
left at home in the stable? Whilst thou wert gone, she bore a fine gray
foal."

"Ah!" said the old Harper, his eyes kindling. "Is she fond of her foal?"

"Fond of it, say you? I warrant bolts and bars would not keep her from
it. Ride thou away on the old mare, and I will keep the foal at home;
and I promise thee she will bring home the brown horse as straight as a
die, without thy aid, if thou desire it."

"Thou art a clever woman, Janet: thou thinkest of everything," said her
husband proudly, as she handed him his bowlful of porridge, and then sat
down to sup her own at the other side of the fire, chuckling to herself,
partly at her husband's words of praise, and partly at the simplicity of
the neighbours, who called him a silly old harper.

Next morning the old man went into the stable, and, taking a halter from
the wall, he hid it in his stocking; then he led out his old gray mare,
who neighed and whinnied in distress at having to leave her little foal
behind her. Indeed he had some difficulty in getting her to start, for
when he had mounted her, and turned her head along the Carlisle road,
she backed, and reared, and sidled, and made such a fuss, that quite a
crowd collected round her, crying, "Come and see the silly Harper of
Lochmaben start to bring home the King of England's brown horse."

At last the Harper got the mare to start, and he rode, and he rode,
playing on his harp all the time, until he came to the castle where the
King of England was. And, as luck would have it, who should come to the
gate, just as he arrived, but King Henry himself. Now his Majesty loved
music, and the old man really played very well, so he asked him to come
into the great hall of the castle, and let all the company hear him
play.

At this invitation the Harper jumped joyously down from his horse, as if
to make haste to go in, and then he hesitated.

"Nay, but if it please your Majesty," he said humbly, "my old nag is
footsore and weary: mayhap there is a stall in your Majesty's stable
where she might rest the night."

Now the King loved all animals, and it pleased him that the old man
should be so mindful of his beast; and seeing one of the stablemen in
the distance, he turned his head and cried carelessly, "Here, sirrah!
Take this old man's nag, and put it in a stall in the stable where my
own brown horse stands, and see to it that it has a good supper of oats
and a comfortable litter of hay."

Then he led the Harper into the hall where all his nobles were, and I
need not tell you that the old man played his very best. He struck up
such a merry tune that before long everybody began to dance, and the
very servants came creeping to the door to listen. The cooks left their
pans, and the chambermaids their dusters, the butlers their pantries;
and, best of all, the stablemen came from the stables without
remembering to lock the doors.

After a time, when they had all grown weary of dancing, the clever old
man began to play such soft, soothing, quiet music, that everyone began
to nod, and at last fell fast asleep.

He played on for a time, till he was certain that no one was left awake,
then he laid down his harp, and slipped off his shoes, and stole
silently down the broad staircase, smiling to himself as he did so.

With noiseless footsteps he crept to the stable door, which, as he
expected, he found unlocked, and entered, and for one moment he stood
looking about him in wonder, for it was the most splendid stable he had
ever seen, with thirty horses standing side by side, in one long row.
They were all beautiful horses, but the finest of all, was King Henry's
favourite brown horse, which he always rode himself.

The old Harper knew it at once, and, quick as thought, he loosed it,
and, drawing the halter which he had brought with him out of his
stocking, he slipped it over its head.

Then he loosed his own old gray mare, and tied the end of the halter to
her tail, so that, wherever she went, the brown horse was bound to
follow. He chuckled to himself as he led the two animals out of the
stable and across the courtyard, to the great wrought-iron gate, and
when he had opened this, he let the gray mare go, giving her a good
smack on the ribs as he did so. And the old gray mare, remembering her
little foal shut up in the stable at home, took off at the gallop,
straight across country, over hedges, and ditches, and walls, and
fences, pulling the King's brown horse after her at such a rate that he
had never even a chance to bite her tail, as he had thought of doing at
first, when he was angry at being tied to it.

Although the mare was old, she was very fleet of foot, and before the
day broke she was standing with her companion before her master's
cottage at Lochmaben. Her stable door was locked, so she began to neigh
with all her might, and at last the noise awoke the Harper's wife.

Now the old couple had a little servant girl who slept in the attic, and
the old woman called to her sharply, "Get up at once, thou lazy wench!
dost thou not hear thy master and his mare at the door?"

The girl did as she was bid, and, dressing herself hastily, went to the
door and looked through the keyhole to see if it were really her master.
She saw no one there save the gray mare and a strange brown horse.

"Oh mistress, mistress, get up," she cried in astonishment, running into
the kitchen. "What do you think has happened? The gray mare has gotten a
brown foal."

"Hold thy clavers!" retorted the old woman; "methinks thou art blinded
by the moonlight, if thou knowest not the difference between a
full-grown horse and a two-months'-old foal. Go and look out again and
bring me word if 'tis not a brown horse which the mare has brought with
her."

The girl ran to the door, and presently came back to say that she had
been mistaken, and that it was a brown horse, and that all the
neighbours were peeping out of their windows to see what the noise was
about.

The old woman laughed as she rose and dressed herself, and went out with
the girl to help her to tie up the two horses.

"'Tis the silly old Harper of Lochmaben they call him," she said to
herself, "but I wonder how many of them would have had the wit to gain a
new horse so easily?"

Meanwhile at the English castle the Harper had stolen silently back to
the hall after he had let the horses loose, and, taking up his harp
again, he harped softly until the morning broke, and the sleeping men
round him began to awake.

The King and his nobles called loudly for breakfast, and the servants
crept hastily away, afraid lest it might come to be known that they had
left their work the evening before to listen to the stranger's music.

The cooks went back to their pans, and the chambermaids to their
dusters, and the stablemen and grooms trooped out of doors to look after
the horses; but presently they all came rushing back again,
helter-skelter, with pale faces, for the stable door had been left open,
and the King's favourite brown horse had been stolen, as well as the
Harper's old gray mare. For a long time no one dare tell the King, but
at last the head stableman ventured upstairs and broke the news to the
Master-of-the-Horse, and the Master-of-the-Horse told the Lord
Chamberlain, and the Lord Chamberlain told the King.

At first his Majesty was very angry, and threatened to dismiss all the
grooms, but his attention was soon diverted by the cunning old Harper,
who threw down his harp, and pretended to be in great distress.

"I am ruined, I am ruined!" he exclaimed, "for I lost the gray mare's
foal just before I left Scotland, and I looked to the price of it for
the rent, and now the old gray mare herself is gone, and how am I to
travel about and earn my daily bread without her?"

Now the King was very kind-hearted, and he was sorry for the poor old
man, for he believed every word of his story, so he clapped him on the
back, and bade him play some more of his wonderful music, and promised
to make up to him for his losses.

Then the wicked old Harper rejoiced, for he knew that his trick had
succeeded, and he picked up his harp again, and played so beautifully
that the King forgot all about the loss of his favourite horse.

All that day the Harper played to him, and on the morrow, when he would
set out for home, in spite of all his entreaties that he would stay
longer, he made his treasurer give him three times the value of his old
gray mare, in solid gold, because he said that, if his servants had
locked the stable door, the mare would not have been stolen, and,
besides that, he gave him the price of the foal, which the wicked old
man had said that he had lost. "For," said the King, "'tis a pity that
such a marvellous harper should lack the money to pay his rent."

Then the cunning old Harper went home in triumph to Lochmaben, and the
good King never knew till the end of his life how terribly he had been
cheated.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Moira on June 27, 2009, 01:19:45 PM
Stu and Bev -

It's so good to see the stories flowing again!!  I missed them there for awhile............

I feel so bad for Archie and Mary!!!  Why would anyone have CARED if you married 'cross the border'???  And a HANGING offense???  Yipes.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on June 29, 2009, 07:23:03 AM
Mythology and Folklore of the Rowan



The rowan's mythic roots go back to classical times. Greek mythology tells of how Hebe the goddess of youth, dispensed rejuvenating ambrosia to the gods from her magical chalice. When, through carelessness, she lost this cup to demons, the gods sent an eagle to recover the cup. The feathers and drops of blood which the eagle shed in the ensuing fight with the demons fell to earth, where each of them turned into a rowan tree. Hence the rowan derived the shape of its leaves from the eagle's feathers and the appearance of its berries from the droplets of blood.

The rowan is also prominent in Norse mythology as the tree from which the first woman was made, (the first man being made from the ash tree). It was said to have saved the life of the god Thor by bending over a fast flowing river in the Underworld in which Thor was being swept away, and helping him back to the shore. Rowan was furthermore the prescribed wood on which runes were inscribed to make rune staves.

In the British Isles the rowan has a long and still popular history in folklore as a tree which protects against witchcraft and enchantment. The physical characteristics of the tree may have contributed to its protective reputation, including the tiny five pointed star or pentagram on each berry opposite its stalk (the pentagram being an ancient protective symbol). The colour red was deemed to be the best protection against enchantment, and so the rowan's vibrant display of berries in autumn may have further contributed to its protective abilities, as suggested in the old rhyme: "Rowan tree and red thread / make the witches tine (meaning 'to lose') their speed". The rowan was also denoted as a tree of the Goddess or a Faerie tree by virtue (like the hawthorn and elder) of its white flowers.

There are several recurring themes of protection offered by the rowan. The tree itself was said to afford protection to the dwelling by which it grew, pieces of the tree were carried by people for personal protection from witchcraft, and sprigs or pieces of rowan were used to protect especially cows and their dairy produce from enchantment. Thus we find documented instances as late as the latter half of the twentieth century of people being warned against removing or damaging the rowan tree growing in their newly acquired garden in the Scottish Highlands and Ireland. On the Isle of Man crosses made from rowan twigs without the use of a knife were worn by people and fastened to cattle, or hung inside over the lintel on May Eve each year. From Scotland to Cornwall similar equal-armed crosses made from rowan twigs and bound with red thread were sewn into the lining of coats or carried in pockets. Other permutations of the use of rowan's protective abilities are many and widespread. In Scandinavia, rowan trees found growing not in the ground but out of some inaccessible cleft in a rock, or out of crevasses in other trees' trunks or boughs, possessed an even more powerful magic, and such trees were known as 'flying rowan'.

Rowan has had a wide range of popular folk names, the most well-know being mountain ash. Its old Gaelic name from the ancient Ogham script was Luis from which the place name Ardlui on Loch Lomond may have been derived. The more common Scots Gaelic name is caorunn (pronounced choroon, the ch as in loch), which crops up in numerous Highland place names such as Beinn Chaorunn in Inverness-shire and Loch a'chaorun in Easter Ross. Rowan was also the clan badge of the Malcolms and McLachlans. There were strong taboos in the Highlands against the use of any parts of the tree save the berries, except for ritual purposes. For example a Gaelic threshing tool made of rowan and called a buaitean was used on grain meant for rituals and celebrations. The strength of these taboos did not apply in other parts of Britain it seems, though there were sometimes rituals and timings to be observed in harvesting the rowan's gifts (for example the rule against using knives to cut the wood, mentioned above).

The rowan's wood is strong and resillient, making excellent walking sticks, and is suitable for carving. It was often used for tool handles, and spindles and spinning wheels were traditionally made of rowan wood. Druids used the bark and berries to dye the garments worn during lunar ceremonies black, and the bark was also used in the tanning process. Rowan twigs were used for divining, particularly for metals.

The berries can be made into or added to a variety of alcoholic drinks, and different Celtic peoples each seem to have had their favourites. As well as the popular wine still made in the Highlands, the Scots made a strong spirit from the berries, the Welsh brewed an ale, the Irish used them to flavour Mead, and even a cider can be made from them. Today rowan berry jelly is still made in Scotland and is traditionally eaten with game.

Paul Kendall
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on June 30, 2009, 09:40:44 AM
I personally find the mythology and folklore of trees quite fascinating...

Mythology and Folklore of the Birch


When the huge glaciers of the last ice age receded, birch trees would have been one of the first to re-colonise the rocky, ice-scoured landscape. Hence, in botanical terms the birch is referred to as a pioneer species. Similarly in early Celtic mythology, the birch came to symbolise renewal and purification. Beithe, the Celtic birch, is the first tree of the Ogham, the Celtic tree alphabet. It was celebrated during the festival of Samhain (what is now Halloween in Britain), the start of the Celtic year, when purification was also important. Bundles of birch twigs were used to drive out the spirits of the old year. Later this would evolve into the 'beating the bounds' ceremonies in local parishes. Gardeners still use the birch besom, or broom, to 'purify' their gardens. Besoms were also of course the archetypal witches' broomsticks, used in their shamanic flights, perhaps after the use of extracts of the fly agaric mushrooms commonly found in birchwoods.

Interestingly, the birch also has strong fertility connections with the celebrations of Beltane, the second, summer, half of the Celtic year (nowadays celebrated as May Day). Beltane fires in Scotland were ritually made of birch and oak, and a birch tree was often used as a, sometimes living, maypole. As birch is one of the first trees to come into leaf it would be an obvious choice as representation of the emergence of spring. Deities associated with birch are mostly love and fertility goddesses, such as the northern European Frigga and Freya. Eostre (from whom we derive the word Easter), the Anglo Saxon goddess of spring was celebrated around and through the birch tree between the spring equinox and Beltane. According to the medieval herbalist Culpepper, the birch is ruled over by Venus - both the planet and the goddess. According to Scottish Highland folklore, a barren cow herded with a birch stick would become fertile, or a pregnant cow bear a healthy calf.

The word birch is thought to have derived from the Sanskrit word bhurga meaning a 'tree whose bark is used to write upon'. When the poet S.T. Coleridge called it the 'Lady of the Woods', he was possibly drawing on an existing folk term for the tree. Birch figures in many anglicised place names, such as Birkenhead, Birkhall and Berkhamstead, and appears most commonly in northern England and Scotland. Beithe (pronounced 'bey'), the Gaelic word for birch, is widespread in Highland place names such as Glen an Beithe in Argyll, Loch a Bhealaich Bheithe in Inverness-shire and Beith in Sutherland. The adjective 'silver' connected with birch seems to be a relatively recent invention, apparently making its first appearance in a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson.


The uses of birch are many and varied. The wood is tough, heavy and straightgrained, making it suitable for handles and toys and good for turning. It was used to make hardwearing bobbins, spools and reels for the Lancashire cotton industry. Traditionally, babies' cradles were made of birch wood, drawing on the earlier symbolism of new beginnings. In 1842, J.C. Loudon, in his Encyclopedia of Trees and Shrubs wrote that, "The Highlanders of Scotland make everything of it;" and proceeded to list all manner of household and agricultural implements as well as its use as a general building material. Though the wood lends itself well enough to many of these uses, the availability of the wood in the Highlands must also have played a part in its use. Loudon furthermore mentions that " … the branches are employed as fuel in the distillation of whiskey, the spray is used for smoking hams and herrings, for which last purpose it is preferred to every other kind of wood. The bark is used for tanning leather, and sometimes, when dried and twisted into a rope, instead of candles. The spray is used for thatching houses; and, dried in summer, with the leaves on, makes a good bed when heath is scarce." The sap can be tapped as it rises in spring and fermented to make birch wine, a process still practiced in the Highlands today. Of old, the Druids made the sap into a cordial to celebrate the spring equinox.

Folklore and herbalism credit different parts of the birch with a variety of medicinal properties. The leaves are diuretic and antiseptic, and an effective remedy for cystitis and other urinary tract infections. They were also used to dissolve kidney stones and relieve rheumatism and gout. The sap (as wine or cordial) similarly prevents kidney and bladder stones, treats rheumatism, and can be used to treat skin complaints. The bark is said to ease muscle pain if applied externally.

"Beneath you birch with silver bark
And boughs so pendulous and fair,
The brook falls scattered down the rock:
and all is mossy there."
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Paul Kendall
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on July 23, 2009, 08:49:03 AM
Daoine Shie

DAOINE SHIE, OR THE MEN OF PEACE.


They are, though not absolutely malevolent, believed to be a peevish,
repining, and envious race, who enjoy, in the subterranean recesses, a
kind of shadowy splendour. The Highlanders are at all times unwilling to
speak of them, but especially on Friday, when their influence is supposed
to be particularly extensive. As they are supposed to be invisibly
present, they are at all times to be spoken of with respect. The fairies
of Scotland are represented as a diminutive race of beings, of a mixed or
rather dubious nature, capricious in their dispositions, and mischievous
in their resentment. They inhabit the interior of green hills, chiefly
those of a conical form, in Gaelic termed _Sighan_, on which they lead
their dances by moonlight, impressing upon the surface the marks of
circles, which sometimes appear yellow and blasted, sometimes of a deep
green hue, and within which it is dangerous to sleep, or to be found
after sunset. The removal of those large portions of turf, which
thunderbolts sometimes scoop out of the ground with singular regularity,
is also ascribed to their agency. Cattle which are suddenly seized with
the cramp, or some similar disorder, are said to be elf-shot, and the
approved cure is to chafe the parts affected with a blue bonnet, which,
it may be readily believed, often restores the circulation. The
triangular flints frequently found in Scotland, with which the ancient
inhabitants probably barbed their shafts, are supposed to be the weapons
of fairy resentment, and are termed elf arrowheads. The rude brazen
battle-axes of the ancients, commonly called "celts," are also ascribed
to their manufacture. But, like the Gothic duergar, their skill is not
confined to the fabrication of arms; for they are heard sedulously
hammering in linns, precipices, and rocky or cavernous situations, where,
like the dwarfs of the mines mentioned by George Agricola, they busy
themselves in imitating the actions and the various employments of men.
The Brook of Beaumont, for example, which passes in its course by
numerous linns and caverns, is notorious for being haunted by the
fairies; and the perforated and rounded stones which are formed by
trituration in its channels are termed by the vulgar fairy cups and
dishes. A beautiful reason is assigned by Fletcher for the fays
frequenting streams and fountains. He tells us of

"A virtuous well, about whose flowery banks
The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds
By the pale moonshine, dipping oftentimes
Their stolen children, so to make them free
From dying flesh and dull mortality."

It is sometimes accounted unlucky to pass such places without performing
some ceremony to avert the displeasure of the elves. There is upon the
top of Minchmuir, a mountain in Peeblesshire, a spring called the Cheese
Well, because, anciently, those who passed that way were wont to throw
into it a piece of cheese as an offering to the fairies, to whom it was
consecrated.

Like the _feld elfen_ of the Saxons, the usual dress of the fairies is
green; though, on the moors, they have been sometimes observed in heath-
brown, or in weeds dyed with the stone-raw or lichen. They often ride in
invisible procession, when their presence is discovered by the shrill
ringing of their bridles. On these occasions they sometimes borrow
mortal steeds, and when such are found at morning, panting and fatigued
in their stalls, with their manes and tails dishevelled and entangled,
the grooms, I presume, often find this a convenient excuse for their
situation, as the common belief of the elves quaffing the choicest
liquors in the cellars of the rich might occasionally cloak the
delinquencies of an unfaithful butler.

The fairies, besides their equestrian processions, are addicted, it would
seem, to the pleasures of the chase. A young sailor, travelling by night
from Douglas, in the Isle of Man, to visit his sister residing in Kirk
Merlugh, heard a noise of horses, the holloa of a huntsman, and the sound
of a horn. Immediately afterwards, thirteen horsemen, dressed in green,
and gallantly mounted, swept past him. Jack was so much delighted with
the sport that he followed them, and enjoyed the sound of the horn for
some miles, and it was not till he arrived at his sister's house that he
learned the danger which he had incurred. I must not omit to mention
that these little personages are expert jockeys, and scorn to ride the
little Manx ponies, though apparently well suited to their size. The
exercise, therefore, falls heavily upon the English and Irish horses
brought into the Isle of Man. Mr. Waldron was assured by a gentleman of
Ballafletcher that he had lost three or four capital hunters by these
nocturnal excursions. From the same author we learn that the fairies
sometimes take more legitimate modes of procuring horses. A person of
the utmost integrity informed him that, having occasion to sell a horse,
he was accosted among the mountains by a little gentleman plainly
dressed, who priced his horse, cheapened him, and, after some chaffering,
finally purchased him. No sooner had the buyer mounted and paid the
price than he sank through the earth, horse and man, to the astonishment
and terror of the seller, who, experienced, however, no inconvenience
from dealing with so extraordinary a purchaser.
Title: To Arms the English are claiming Haggis
Post by: John ThomsonHollingsworth on August 07, 2009, 04:10:25 AM
This article was in today's New York Times

August 7, 2009
Op-Ed Contributor
Keep Your Hands Off Our Haggis
By ALEXANDER McCALL SMITH

Edinburgh

THIS is very serious. Britain, as most readers of this newspaper know, has long been populated by three warlike tribes, the Scots, the English and the Welsh. Much of British history consists of disputes between these tribes, particularly between the Scots and the English. Since the middle of the 18th century, after Bonnie Prince Charlie made a vain attempt to reclaim the kingdom for the Scottish Stuart dynasty, an uneasy peace has prevailed, based, in part, on the understanding that Scottish pride and Scottish feathers will not be unduly ruffled. But then, every so often, somebody threatens this delicate understanding with an outrageous suggestion. This usually happens in August, when newspapers have nothing better to talk about. And it has happened again this August.

The insult to the Scots this year is that haggis, the Scottish national dish, is not really Scottish, but English. Now this may seem a matter of little consequence to Americans, but how would the United States react if apple pie and turkey with cranberry sauce were to be claimed as the products of, say, French cuisine? Or if somebody asserted that baseball was invented by the Romanians (which it was)? These things are a matter of national pride, and people should take great care when talking about them.

The basis of the current claim is that an English cookbook of the early 17th century contains a recipe for haggis. This, we are told, was well before any Scottish recipe book gives similar information. Well, now, this assertion is so patently flimsy that it hardly requires refutation. Of course there was no published Scottish recipe for haggis before then, for the simple reason that it would have been quite unnecessary for Scots to publish a recipe for something that everybody in Scotland knew how to make. Why state the obvious? It’s as simple as that.

But if further proof is required, then it is there in abundance. English cuisine has always been very open to foreign influences, and still is. If one looks at contemporary English cookbook writers, what do they write about? French food, Indian food, Chinese food — anything but English food. And it was ever thus. So it is no surprise that early 17th-century English food writers should have written about exotic Scottish dishes rather than English ones. This is what these people have always done.

The haggis, of course, has played an important role in the Scottish national psyche — not as food, but as an invention. Scots like to console themselves with the knowledge that even if today we are a small nation on the periphery of Europe, an adjunct to a defunct empire, and chronically unsuccessful at something we would love to be successful at (soccer), we nonetheless have a great past as inventors.

Scottish schoolchildren are indoctrinated with the history of Scottish inventions. Television, they are taught, was invented by John Logie Baird, a Scotsman, and not by Philo Taylor Farnsworth, an American. The Irish did not invent whisky, and Irish whiskey is not the real McCoy; McCoy himself, whoever he was, was clearly Scottish and definitely not Irish. And golf was not invented by the Dutch — as misguided Dutchmen have a habit of claiming — it was a product of the Scottish genius for hitting things with sticks and counting the hits.

So the haggis is clearly Scottish, as Robert Burns understood full well when he wrote his famous poem in its praise. If one’s national bard writes a poem to a dish consisting of chopped-up offal cooked in a sheep’s stomach together with oatmeal and spices and secured with a curious pin, then that dish must be authentically national.

Anyway, even if there were doubts about this — which of course no right-thinking person would entertain — why take an iconic dish away from a national cuisine that has so little else of distinction in it? Yes, we have salmon and porridge, and one or two other dishes, but Escoffier would surely have been very unfulfilled had he been born Scottish.

Blithely attributing our haggis to a people who already have lots and lots of dishes — most of them terribly stodgy — in their national cuisine seems, if nothing else, to be gratuitously cruel. It would be like eating a mockingbird, if I may be permitted a literary allusion.

Never heard of haggis? Never tasted it? Try it on your next visit to Scotland, or even England. It is best taken with mashed turnips, which, incidentally, were invented in Scotland, and with a shot of whisky. The whisky is to neutralize the taste of the haggis, and the turnips are there for health reasons. Highly recommended.

Alexander McCall Smith is the author, most recently, of “Tea Time for the Traditionally Built.”
Copyright 2009 The New York Times Company
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Thomas Thompson on April 11, 2010, 10:00:19 AM
Proof that Scots are leaders.
   4/09/2010 article by Thomas Sowell:   'MULTICULTRAL DOGMA FETTERS ADVANCEMENT.
"...In 18th-century Scotland, the great philosopher David Hume urged his fellow Scots to learn the English language, in order to advance themselves, individually and collectively.
   The net result was that Scotland went from being one of the most backward countries on the fringes of European civilization to being one of the most advanced countries in the world.  A wholly disproportionate share of the leading British intellectuals from mid-18th century to mid-19th century were of Scottish ancestry, and the Scots ultimately surpassed the English in medicine and Engineering."
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on September 10, 2010, 10:57:41 AM
Prince's Flowers

On the island of Eriskay in Scotland's Western Isles. There grows a small pink flower. Unique to the island this frail little Convolvulus flower has a link with Bonnie Prince Charlie.

Before he reached Glenfinnan to raise the Jacobite standard in 1745 the 'young pretender' first arrived at the island of Eriskay. He had travelled on the French Frigate La Doutelle. The weather was typical for the area and time of year and the small frigate was buffeted by harsh weather. Charles made the decision to land on the island and a small party rowed ashore.

The Princes StrandThe tiny boat made landfall at a small inlet which has come to be known as 'Coilleag d'Phrionnso' (The Prince's Strand). As the Prince stepped ashore he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of flower seeds. These he scattered close to the shore. The seeds grew by the beach and these rare pink flowers grew at the spot. They have come to be known as the princes flower for this reason. It has been observed that when anyone tries to move the plants from the island to another location they never flourish.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on September 14, 2010, 11:51:35 AM
Mary Stewart, Queen of Scotland (1542 - 1587)


    "In my end is my Beginning"
    - Mary Queen of Scots

How many of us wonder in our secret hearts just what our lives are meant to be, what impact our presence and passing may have on the balance of the world both as it is now and as it may become?

Mary Stewart had nineteen long years to ponder these questions, and possessed both the courage and the will to determine for herself the outcome of her personal tragedy and make her mark in our hearts and in the lives of many generations of Scots and Englishmen.

Born to rule, raised in luxury at the French court, Queen of Scotland, Queen Dowager of France, second in line to the English throne, in her darkest nightmares Mary could not have imagined what her life would become when she set sail from France in 1561 at the age of eighteen to rejoin her people and begin her personal rule of Scotland.

Well-educated, beautiful, charming, religiously tolerant of her Protestant subjects, and loyal and caring with high- and low-born alike -- none of these talents and qualities were adequate for holding her throne against the greed and ambition of the Scottish nobles. The very qualities so often admired in the Scots -- independence, courage, clan loyalty -- worked against a strong monarchy in Scotland. These powerful lords were only interested in self-aggrandizement and extending their own lands and power base. Constantly changing loyalties and pacts amongst them brought Mary to grief over and over again. The duplicity of Elizabeth I, Mary's cousin and Queen of England, further undermined Mary's authority.

After a remarkable series of catastrophes, including Mary's ill-received marriage to Lord Darnley (father of James VI), the murder of Mary's servant Riccio, Darnley's subsequent murder at Kirk o' Field, her abduction and brief marriage to James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell -- all with in a three-year period! -- Mary made the most unfortunate decision of her short reign. Pursued by rebels, Mary chose to flee to England, rather than attempt an escape to France.

Putting herself into Elizabeth's hands seems well-nigh impossible to understand, for Elizabeth's primary concern throughout her reign was to secure the kingdom to herself and ensure a Protestant England. Once on English soil, Mary never left again. She was imprisoned in various homes and castles for the next nineteen years -- and eventually executed (illegally) on charges of treason soon after her 44th birthday.

In reflecting on Mary Queen of Scots' life and person, we are overwhelmed at the unfairness and injustice she suffered, losing her kingdom to the pettiness of those less fit to rule. Her son, Jame VI (James I of England, surname Stuart from his father Darnley), torn from her at age 10 months, was raised to despise her and her Catholic faith -- he never lifted a finger to help her and did not grieve at her death. Elizabeth's motives are at least clear, as Mary was a definite threat to her throne, but the underhanded and cruel way in which Mary was often treated is inexcusable.

Many readers become bored with Mary's later life, preferring the excitement and romance of her youthful escapades. But half of Mary's life was led in captivity and the maturity and insight she gained during these years produced her immortal legacy. While always loyal to the Roman Catholic church, Mary had not been excessively devout when young.

However, her years in prison deepened her faith. Knowing she would soon be put to death, Mary determined to die with all the dignity of a Queen (a birthright no one could take from her) and as a martyr to the Catholic faith. In this endeavor, she richly succeeded and future generations revered her devotion to the cause of Christ and put to shame her oppressors.

Elizabeth I died barren, "The Virgin Queen". She lies in a tomb at Westminster Abbey with her sister, Mary Tudor, also barren. Mary Queen of Scots lies in the Abbey surrounded by generation after generation, babies, children, and adults, of the Stuart line. Her blood flows through the centuries and in the veins of the current Elizabeth II.

"In my end is my Beginning" was embroidered by Mary herself on the royal dais of state under which she sat throughout her years of captivity.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Thomas Thompson on September 25, 2010, 09:02:13 AM
Thanks Stu
  Your article cause me to rethink some of my assumed facts on Scottish history. In the rush of this important election year we often overlook the meaning of personal  freedom. I 'll wager none of us can image what it means to spend years in captivity just because you are a threat to someone's ruling position.
Tom
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on December 22, 2010, 10:02:06 AM
From heartoscotland.com...

Christmas in Scotland

What is Christmas in Scotland really like? The following article was written by a young Scotswoman willing to share with Americans how the Scots celebrate Christmas.
A Real Scottish Christmas

Dear Americans.

I have entitled this article "A Real Scottish Christmas" and I hope that it gives interested people some insight into how the average Scot spends the festive season. Personally, I'm spending this year snowboarding in France, but for the majority of Scots stuck with it, here's how it goes:

Christmas shopping in Scotland: Apart from the supermarket "Christmas Savings Stamps", which start earlier, this now starts just before Hallowe'en, when the shops start filling up with a variety of gift ideas. The big out of town shopping centres tend to start their decorations earliest, but keen to attract shoppers to town centres, which are losing business to the out of town centres, local councils light up the streets and encourage shops to stay open later in competition. The bigger cities are now attempting a more classy look by putting fairy lights into the trees that are there all year round, while smaller towns tend to get multicoloured light bulbs into a big fir tree in the town centre. These get gradually smashed by young people in the run up to Christmas leaving one or two at the top by December 24th.

The advertising also gets into full swing round about Hallowe'en so that the children have plenty of time to drive their parents mad asking for the latest toys. Also in shopping centres Santa's Grottos appear, where children queue up to go in and ask Santa for what they want at Christmas, and get given a small toy.

Letters to Santa: Children at this time often start to make Christmas lists, which are lists of the presents they want. Some children send this list to 'Santa' in Lapland by one means or another. I was told that you could burn this on the fire and the list would go up the chimney and get to Santa that way. However my parents "living flame" fire was behind glass so that never really worked.

Decorating Houses: The next exciting thing that happens is that people start to decorate their houses. These decorations are getting gradually more outrageous as the years go by with the humble plastic tree and bits of tinsel strung across the ceiling being replaced by light up musical Santas climbing into windows and fake snow being rolled out across roofs. We don't tend to get real snow any more due to global warming (hence going to France). Children can join in the countdown by using advent calendars, which have little doors that you can open for every day in December with a little picture behind, ending on Christmas Eve.

On Christmas Eve: The children are in a frenzy of excitement waiting for their presents. Practice at this point varies; I used to have big presents put under the Christmas tree to find in the morning as well as a stocking for smaller presents at the end of the bed for Santa to come and fill in the night ready for me to find in the morning. Some families used pillow cases instead of stockings, and some don't see the point of stockings at all and just go for the big presents. We eat ordinary food on Christmas Eve.

On Christmas day: Usually families will get together to open their presents and have a big Christmas lunch. Everyone looks hopefully out of the window to see if it will snow, and I remember it did once. Presents are unwrapped carefully so that the wrapping paper can be used again. Often dads and grandpas get socks. Lunch is usually turkey with all the trimmings and one or two glasses of wine or champagne. Pudding is usually a Christmas cake - some people who don't like fruit cake may have a Yule log, which is a chocolate cake from Sweden. Most people have Christmas crackers and eat their dinner wearing a paper crown. Following this the whole family get together in front of the TV and fall asleep in front of either:

1. "The Wizard of Oz" or
2. "The Sound of Music" or
3. "The Queen's Speech" (always at 3pm).

At tea time, our family liked to have a light supper of bread and butter and smoked salmon, and more crackers if there are any left.

Thus ends Christmas and we all wait for a few days until Hogmanay. (Ed. note: Hogmanay is New Year's)

Hogmanay is the time of year when children get to stay up until 12:00 am. It goes like this:

1. Sit up watching 'hoochter choochter' music on the telly and trying not to fall asleep. For many years a comedy show called 'Scotch and Wry' was shown, even for several years after the death of the main character. Now we have pictures of the tourists in the streets of Edinburgh.

2. Just before midnight, go to your neighbour's across the road, where they will be waiting with bowls of mixed nuts and a glass of wine. Some (generally older) people may at this point drink whiskey. Remember to take a lump of stone symbolising a piece of coal for good luck. This is called "First Footing".

3. At "the bells" (on the telly), everyone stands up and stands in a circle with their hands crossed, holding hands with the people on either side of them, and sings 'Auld Lang Syne' while feeling slightly embarrassed.

4. Stay for a bit to make an effort and then go home and climb gratefully into bed.

The younger and more adventurous may go round to more than one person's house and take them all a lump of stone, and will get drunk. If there are a lot of people about in the streets, everyone will wish each other a happy new year and kiss each other on the (usually) cheek. This is what used to happen in Edinburgh but can no longer because the whole town is full of tourists who don't know what to do and the people who live in Edinburgh aren't allowed across town without a ticket.

January the 2nd is also a Scottish holiday. However we have two less public holidays than England throughout the rest of the year to make up for it.

I hope you have enjoyed this little slice of Scottish life, and you have my best wishes for recreating it in America.

Merry Christmas!

Well, there you have it! Sounds like Americans and Scots don't differ too much in our ways of celebrating that most commercial of holidays - but as we say in America: "It's for the children."
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Parker Thomson on January 21, 2011, 06:10:32 PM
Jock Tamson's Bairns
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

"We're a' Jock Tamson's Bairns" (Lowland Scots for we're all John Thomson's children) is a popular saying in Scotland and the far north of England, and is known in other parts of the world. Nowadays, the phrase is often used to mean "we're all the same under the skin"

My Siblings and I went to visit my Grandfather's birthplace in Fenwick.  Somewhere along the way, we went to the Pilochry Games. Anyway, I thought I would throw on the Thomson Tartan kilt and walk around.  I t did not take me long to figure out that in Scottish Games, the only ones wearing kilts are contestants and old guys.  Some old guy came up to me and asked what I was competing in. And I told him I was just there as a spectator. He said " Aye, Amercian?" I told him yes and why we were there, to visit Grandfather Thomson's birthplace.  So then he said, "Aye we're all John Thomson's bairn."  I have to admit that I said, " Uhhh- what?" I figured it meant something about all Scot's kinship in the context.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on June 24, 2011, 12:58:12 PM
From Folk lore of Lowland Scotland by Evelyn Balantyre Simpson 1908

FAIRIES

"Up the airy mountain
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a hunting
For fear of little men.
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together,
Green jacket, red cap
And white owl's feather."

Wm. Allingham.
...
Northern fable explains to us how the gay wee folk and gnomes were turned into a useful path, when the world was young. Odin had spied from his high seat wicked dwarfs and sprites in mischief. He sent Hermod, the Flying Wind, to bid them speak with him. The "light elves were surprised at the summons, not quite knowing whether to feel honoured or afraid. However, they put on their prettiest manners and went clustering after Hermod like a swarm of lady birds." They were very inquisitive, but became awed when they saw Odin in the Judgment Hall, and hung back in the doorway, peeping over their comrades' shoulders. They had to be beckoned to, two or three times, and finally shoving one another, and whispering timidly, they reached his footstool. "Then Odin spoke to them in calm, low, serious tones about the wickedness of their mischievous propensities. Some of the very worst of them only laughed in a forward, hardened manner, but a great many looked up surprised and a little pleased at the novelty of serious words, whilst the light elves all wept, for they were tender-hearted little things." Odin named the two dwarfs whom he had seen murdering the wise man, and so pleased were they at their fame they leapt up and danced and boasted of their misdeeds. Then Odin thundered with disapproval at them, condemned the wicked dwarfs to live far underground from henceforth, and throw fuel upon the earth's fire; those who had only been impishly mischievous were to hammer in the gold and diamond mines, and only at night return to breathe the upper air. Chattering with fear and rage they departed, but the light elves stood with their joyous faces bedimmed with tears and begged Odin to forgive them, as they had done no one any harm. Sage Odin asked if they had ever done anybody any good, and they confessed, with innocent candour, that they had never done anything at all. "You may go then," said Odin, "to live amongst the flowers and play with the wild bees and summer insects, but you must find something to do or you will work mischief like the dwarfs from idleness."

The elves explained they were such foolish little people and had no one to guide them, so Frey, the genius of clouds and sunshine, was sent for, and promised to teach the brainless, useless elves to burst the folded buds, to set the blossoms, to pour sweetness into the swelling fruit, to lead the bees through the honey passages of the flowers, to make the single ear a stalk of wheat, to hatch the birds' eggs and teach the young to sing. Delighted were the elves at the course of study that Frey suggested, and away they went with him to Altheim, and so the frivolous elves became our tricksy, pretty fairies, who, like Puck, sing merrily:—

"In the cowslip's bell I lie.
Where the bee lurks there lurk I."

Oberon and Titania and all their mimic train dance lightsomely before us in poetry and romance, for they have been made into familiar spirits for us by pen and brush. These are the inconsequent fairies of northern fable, but those denizens of Elfinland who live in Scotland have been described by the people preserved in folk lore, and also ministers of the gospel have written what they believe to be facts about these fairies. The Rev. Mr. Kirk of Aberfoyle, at the beginning of last century, published a book describing these contrairy sylvan pigmies. He says: "They are a kind of astral spirits between angels and humanity, being like men and women in appearance and similar in many of their habits. They live in subterranean habitations, and in an invisible condition attend very constantly on men. They are very fond of human children and pretty women, both of which they will steal if not protected by some superior influence. When people offend them they shoot flint-tipped arrows, and by this means kill either the persons who have offended them or their cattle. They cause these arrows to strike the most vital part, but the stroke does not visibly break the skin, only a blae mark is the result visible on the body after death. These flint arrow heads are occasionally found, and the possession of one of these will protect the possessor against the power of these astral beings and at the same time enable him or her to cure diseases in cattle and women."

Another divine in 1670, Lucas Jacobsen Debes, in his description written from Thorshaven in the Faroes, complains "of the fairies disturbing his congregation and sometimes carrying off his hearers." The Rev. Lucas must have surely delivered very spiritual discourses when he drew around him those teasing elves, who could lend their aid when they listed as a choir invisible. Perhaps his congregation were not averse to these fairy visits, or did not object to being lifted from out of hearing of the good man's lengthy discourse. We must bear in mind that the people of previous times led less artificial lives than we do. As a modern writer says: "When we were children we did not say at such a distance from the post-office or so far from the butcher's or the grocer's, but measured things from the covered well in the wood, or by the burrow of the fox in the hill. We belonged then to God and His works and to things come down from the ancient days. We would not have been greatly surprised had we met the shining feet of an angel among the white mushrooms upon the mountains—for we knew in those days immense despair, unfathomed love, every eternal mood— but now the draw-net is about our feet."

As we have grown in civilisation we have lost many instincts once granted to mortals. We have undoubtedly acquired knowledge, and thereby power, on many subjects, but our progenitors, along with'untamed races and animals, had faculties of sight, smell, and hearing which education and indoor life has blotted out from our list of attainments. They lived close to nature, who was a kind old nurse to the children who cuddled close to her, and she gifted them with a keener range of vision than we possess. They therefore may, for aught we know, have seen face to face their good neighbours of whom so much has been said and sung....
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Thomas Thompson on June 24, 2011, 08:59:54 PM
Stu
   Thanks for that reminder of a time more innocent than ours. I think our children missed the best part of youth by NOT spending time in the woods listening ONLY to the wind and birds.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on July 07, 2011, 04:24:29 PM
Found this interesting...

Scottish Naming Traditions

    The following is the traditional method of naming offspring used by those of Scottish descent during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and before.

        First son after father's father
        Second son after mother's father
        Third son after father
        Subsequent sons after great-grandfathers, uncles, cousins, neighbours, minister, doctor, schoolmaster, laird etc.

        First daughter after mother's mother
        Second daughter after father's mother
        Third daughter after mother
        Subsequent daughters after great-grandparents, aunts, cousins, neighbours, minister's wife, doctor's wife, schoolmaster's wife, laird's wife etc.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on March 19, 2012, 11:08:46 AM
The following tale is taken from:
Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend
By Donald Alexander Mackenzie
[1917]


The Maid-of-the-Wave

The mermaid, or, as she is called in Gaelic, Maid-of-the-Wave, has great beauty and is sweet-voiced. Half her body is of fish shape, and glitters like a salmon in sunshine, and she has long copper-coloured hair which she loves to comb as she sits on a rock on a lonely shore, gazing in a mirror of silver, and singing a song in praise of her own great beauty. Sometimes, on moonlight nights, she takes off her skin covering and puts on sea-blue garments, and then she seems fairer than any lady in the land.

Once a young crofter was wandering below the cliffs on a beautiful summer night when the wind was still and the silver moon shone through the clear depths of ocean, casting a flood of light through Land-under-Waves. He heard sounds of song and laughter. He crept softly towards a shadowy rock, and, climbing it, looked down on a bank of white sand. There he beheld a company of mermaids dancing in a ring round a maid who was fairest of the fair. They had taken off their skin coverings, and were gowned in pale blue, and, as they wheeled round about, their copper tresses streamed out behind their backs, glistening in the moonlight. He was delighted by their singing and amazed at their beauty.

At length he crept stealthily down the rock, and ran towards the skin coverings lying on the sand. He seized one and ran off with it. When the mermaids saw him they screamed and scattered in confusion, and snatching up their skin coverings, leapt into the sea and vanished from sight. One maid remained behind. This was the fair one round whom the others had been dancing. Her skin covering was gone, and so she could not return to her sea home.

Meanwhile the crofter ran to his house and hid the skin covering in a box, which he locked, placing the key in his pocket. He wondered what would happen next, and he had not long to wait. Someone came to his door and knocked softly. He stood listening in silence. Then he heard the knocking again, and opened the door. A Maid-of-the-Wave, clad in pale sea-blue garments, stood before him, the moonlight glistening on her wet copper hair. Tears stood in her soft blue eyes as she spoke sweetly saying: "O man, have pity and give me back my skin covering so that I may return to my sea home."

She was so gentle and so beautiful that the crofter did not wish her to go away, so he answered: "What I have got I keep. Do not sorrow, O fair one. Remain here and be my bride."

The mermaid turned away and wandered along the shore, but the crofter did not leave his house. In the morning she returned again, and the crofter said to her: "Be my bride."

The mermaid consented saying: "I cannot return to my fair sea home. I must live now among human beings, and I know no one except you alone. Be kind to me, but do not tell man or woman who I am or whence I came."

The crofter promised to keep her secret, and that day they were married. All the people of the township loved Maid-of-the-Wave, and rejoiced to have her among them. They thought she was a princess from a far country who had been carried away by the fairies.

For seven years the crofter and his wife lived happily together. They had three children, two boys and a girl, and Maid-of-the-Wave loved them dearly.

When the seventh year was drawing to a close the crofter set out on a journey to Big Town, having business to do there. His wife was lonely without him, and sat often on the shore singing songs to her baby girl and gazing over the sea.

One evening, as she wandered amidst the rocks, her eldest boy, whose name was Kenneth, came to her and said: "I found a key which opened Father's box, and in the box I saw a skin like the skin of a salmon, but brighter and more beautiful, and very large."

His mother gasped with surprise and secret joy, and asked softly: "Will you give me the key?"

Kenneth handed the key to her, and she hid it in her bosom. Then she said: "It is getting late. The moon will not rise till near midnight. Come home, little Kenneth, and I shall make supper, and put you to bed, and sing you to sleep."

As she spoke she began to sing a joyous song, and Kenneth was glad that his mother was no longer sad because his father was from home. He grasped his mother's hand, and tripped lightly by her side as they went homeward together.

When the two boys had supper, and were slumbering in bed, the crofter's wife hushed her girl-baby to sleep, and laid her in her cradle. Then she took the key from her bosom and opened the box. There she found her long-lost skin covering. She wished to return to her fair sea home, yet she did not care to leave her children. She sat by the fire for a time, wondering if she should put on the skin covering or place it in the box again. At length, however, she heard the sound of singing coming over the waves, and the song she heard was like this:--

Maid-of-the-Wave, the dew mist is falling,
  Thy sisters are calling and longing for thee;
Maid-of-the-Wave, the white stars are gleaming,
  Their bright rays are streaming across the dark sea.
Maid-of-the-Wave, would thou wert near us!
  Come now to cheer us--Oh, hear us! Oh, hear us!

Maid-of-the-Wave, a sea-wind is blowing,
  The tide at its flowing hath borne us to thee;
Maid-of-the-Wave, the tide is now turning--
  Oh! we are all yearning our sister to see.
Maid-of-the-Wave, come back and ne'er leave us,
  The loss of thee grieves us--believe us! believe us!

Maid-of-the-Wave, what caredst thou in childhood
  For moorland or wildwood? thy home was the sea.
Maid-of-the-Wave, thine exile and sorrow
  Will end ere the morrow, and thou shalt be free.
Maid-of-the-Wave, to-night from our sea-halls
  A heart-spell on thee falls--the sea calls! the sea calls!

She kissed the two boys and wept over them. Then she knelt beside her little baby girl, who smiled in her sleep, and sang:

Sleep, oh! sleep my fair, my rare one,
  Sleep, oh! sleep nor sigh nor fret thee.
Though I leave thee it doth grieve me--
  Ne'er, oh! ne'er will I forget thee.

Sleep, oh! sleep, my white, my bright one,
  Sleep, oh! sleep and know no sorrow.
Soft I kiss thee, I who'll miss thee
  And thy sire who'll come to-morrow.

Sleep, oh! sleep my near, my dear one,
  While thy brothers sleep beside thee.
They will waken all forsaken--
  Fare-thee-well, and woe betide me!

 
When she had sung this song she heard voices from the sea calling low and calling sweet:

Maid-of-the-Wave, oh! list to our singing;
  The white moon is winging its way o'er the sea.
Maid-of-the-Wave, the white moon is shining,
  And we are all pining, sweet sister, for thee.
Maid-of-the-Wave, would thou wert near us!
  Come now to cheer us--Oh, hear us! Oh, hear us!

The weeping mother kissed her boys and her baby-girl once again. Then she put on her skin covering and, hastening down the beach, plunged into the sea. Ere long, sounds of joy, and laughter were heard far out amongst the billows, and they grew fainter and fainter until they were heard no more. The moon rose high and fair, and shone over the wide solitary ocean, and whither the mermaids had gone no one could tell.

When the crofter returned next morning he found the children fast asleep. He wakened Kenneth, who told him about finding the key and opening the box.

"Where is the key now?" the crofter asked.

"I gave it to Mother," said the boy.

The crofter went towards the box. It was open, and the skin covering was gone. Then he knew what had happened, and sat down and sorrowed because Maid-of-the-Wave had gone.

It is told that the lost mother often returned at night-time to gaze through the cottage windows on her children as they lay asleep. She left trout and salmon for them outside the door. When the boys found the fish they wondered greatly, and their father wept and said: "Your mother is far away, but she has not forgotten you."

"Will Mother return again?" the boys would ask.

"No, Mother will not return," their father would say. "She now dwells in the home of her people, to which you and I can never go."

When the boys grew up they became bold and daring seamen, and no harm ever came to them in storm or darkness, for their mother, Maid-of-the-Wave, followed their ship and protected it from all peril.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on November 21, 2013, 04:26:37 PM
I haven't posted anything here for awhile so try this one...


The Fian Warriors

There is an ancient legend that an army of sleeping warriors is waiting in a cave in the Eildon Hills until the day comes when all Gaeldom shall rise against its oppressors. Sir Walter Scott related the following story in his "Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft".
"The story has often been told, of a daring horse-jockey having sold a black horse to a man of venerable and antique appearance, who appointed the remarkable hillock upon Eildon hills, called the Lucken-hare, as the place where at twelve o'clock at night, he should receive the price. He came, his money was paid in ancient coin, and he was invited by his customer to view his residence. The trader in horses followed his guide in the deepest astonishment through several long ranges of stalls, in each of which a horse stood motionless, while an armed warrior lay equally still at the charger's feet.
"All these men", said the wizard in a whisper,"will awaken at the battle of Sheriffmuir." At the extremity of this extraordinary depot hung a sword and a horn, which the prophet pointed out to the horse-dealer as containing means of dissolving the spell. The man in confusion took the horn and attempted to wind it. The horses instantly started in their stalls, stamped, and shook their bridles, the men arose and clashed their armour, and the mortal, terrified by the tumult he had excited, dropped the horn from his hand. A voice like that of a giant, louder even than the tumult around, pronounced these words:
'Woe to the coward that ever he was born
That did not draw the sword before he blew the horn.'
A whirlwind expelled the horse-dealer from the cavern, the entrance to which he could never find again." Scott says that the wizard was Thomas of Ercildoune, known as the Rhymer.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on November 21, 2013, 08:07:58 PM
Love these stories and history Stirling, thanks!

Barbara
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on December 12, 2013, 05:25:47 PM
The Kindly Wulver

Wulvers are ofter called werewolves, but legend shows they are quite different. Said to inhabit the Shetland Islands off the coast of northeast Scotland. The ancient Celts believed that the Wulver evolved from wolves, and that the Wulver symbolizes the in-between stage of man and wolf. With the head of a wolf, the body of a man, and covered in short brown hair, the Wulver lives alone in a cave. Unlike his werewolf brethren, the Scottish Wulver is considered kindhearted, and he will often guide lost travelers to nearby towns and villages. There are also tales of Wulvers leaving fish on the windowsills of poor families.

The Wulver was frequently spotted fishing for its daily meal from a rock dubbed, The Wulvers Stane (Wolf Stone), and as long as he was left alone, a Wulver showed no aggression. Habitually, this peace-loving creature demonstrated a benevolent side as well, and oft-times was observed leaving extra fish on the windowsill of poor families.

Unfortunately, there isnt much documentation on the elusive Wulver, the last reported sighting being in the early twentieth century. Considering there are few bad stories connected with the beast, many believe an encounter providential, and may lead a person to treasure buried amongst ancient ruins. Conversely, others view Wulver sightings as omens of imminent death.
The Wulver has two legs and is hal human unlike a werewolf

The Wulver has two legs and is hal human unlike a werewolf

Werewolf tales abound, cloaked in terror, wonder and ill will. Therefore, if ever you find yourself lost on the fog-shrouded shores of the Shetland Isles, youd do well to pray the benign Wulver finds you first, and guides you safely home.
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Donna on December 12, 2013, 09:01:01 PM
Hey Stu,
What a cool story!  Thanks for posting it!
Donna
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Stirling Thompson on December 13, 2013, 08:09:01 AM
The Gille Dubh

In Scottish folklore the Ghillie Dhu or Gille Dubh is a faerie, a guardian spirit of the trees. He is kind to children, but generally wild and shy. Said to be dark haired, he is described as clothed in leaves and moss (similar to a Green Man in England and Wales). He especially likes birch trees, and is most active at night. In lore, this solitary spirit is said to reside primarily near Gairloch and Loch a Druing.

It is also a term used in song, including "code-songs" in which it was used to symbolize the Stuart heir, probably deriving from the time when the future Charles II, son of the executed Charles I, was in exile following the English Civil War. Charles was dark-hued, with black hair, and so was given the code-name "Gille Dubh." The term was later extended to mean his younger brother, ( James VII and II), after he was exiled following the rebellion that put his daughter Mary and her husband William of Orange on the throne.

Gille Dubh translates from Scottish Gaelic as "dark haired lad".
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: cheryllwith2ls on January 12, 2014, 04:05:16 PM
Interesting! I love learning new things! Thank you Stirling! :)
Title: Re: Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends
Post by: Barbara on January 28, 2014, 06:35:07 PM
I'm with Cheryll, thanks Stu!

Barb