Tag: folklore

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The dark truth behind nursery rhymes & lullabies.

We sing them to our children because they have jaunty little tunes, and seem to be full of fluffy imagery and childhood innocence. But a lot of them, on closer examination, are pretty dark. They are about some of the most brutal and unsavoury episodes in our history. Disease, death, religious intolerance, war and torture.   It’s no wonder babies don’t sleep through the night.   So I have made a video which reveals the shocking truth about them.

You will discover, they were certainly not intended for children

In this video we answer the burning questions which must have been bothering you all these years. Questions like;

Why is rock-a-bye baby in a tree top?
What was growing in Mary Mary Quite Contrary’s garden?
Why did Goosey Goosey gander throw an old man down the stairs?
How did Humpty Dumpty fall off the wall?
Why do we all fall down in the Ring-a-ring-a-rosies?
Why was Jack Horner so pleased with his plumb?

We also look at the reason these stories were given such chirpy and memorable songs and why the essence of the stories behind them were condensed down to such simple stanzas. It was in short, a very simple form of propaganda.

I hope you enjoy the video. Just click below to watch it in full and feel free to subscribe to this YouTube channel if you have not already done so.

The dark truth behind nursery rhymes and lullabies video

Let me give you a flavour of one of these supposedly innocent, children’s, nursery rhymes.

Are you familiar with Humpty Dumpty? And do you like countless millions believe this to be a song about an egg? Oh contraire! If you are not familiar with it, here is a video. The main thing to note here though is the lyrics, and they go like this:

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again 

The only reason people think this nursery rhyme is about an egg is because of a very famous illustrated, children’s story and song book from the nineteenth century. In it, the illustrator decided to depict Humpty as an egg. They did so without any integrity.    

Humpty Dumpty was a killing machine. The absolute pinnacle of military engineering of its day.   This was during the English Civil War which raged on from 1642 to 1651 between the “Cavaliers” who were  loyal to the king and the “roundheads” who were republicans revolting to overthrow the monarchy in Britain. The Cavaliers had commissioned a huge siege cannon that supposedly combined the mobility of a small cannon with the fire power of a big one. It was not particularly portable as it was so vast and made out of iron. However, if you had enough horses and men, you could transport it to where it was needed, mount it on a stone wall (as anything less substantial than that would be destroyed by its recoil) and rain hell upon your enemy with the fire power of a fixed cannon. During a siege, when you were held inside a walled town or a castle, you never knew where your enemy might attack from so fixed cannons though powerful could be outflanked by a smart enemy. With this thing though, they had fire power wherever they needed it.   As is often the case with big guns, the army had a jokey nick name for it and in this case,  it was called “Humpty Dumpty”. I have to confess; I don’t know why.

During the siege of Colchester in 1648, Humpty was hauled with some difficulty, onto the top of the church tower of St Mary on the walls. Once they managed to get it up there it proved to be phenomenally successful and for 11 weeks it thundered down on the attacking “Roundheads”, blowing up everything in its range killing hundreds of men.  

The roundheads knew that the only way they were going to subdue their enemy was if they took out this monstrous weapon, but on the battlefield,  they had nothing that could match it for range or firepower. Eventually they managed to explode charges in the walls of the church tower itself which sufficiently weakened the structure to make it incapable of supporting this vast weapon. It broke free of the masonry that had been supporting it and tumbled over the town walls and landed barrel downward in a marsh. Because of its tremendous weight, it sunk into the ground, embedding itself to such a point that no matter how many men and horses were deployed to retrieve it, they could not pull it free.

And that is how Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall and why all the king’s horses and king’s men could not put him together again.

To be fair that one is not particularly dark. You should read the back story to ‘Rock-a-bye-baby’ though. That one really is dark!

If you want to watch more of my videos, my channel can be found at https://youtube.com/user/grahamloveluck. If you are interested in books on history, legend and folklore, please visit my online bookshop.

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The legend of the white lady of West Orchard

This is a really tragic, old legend from St Athan in the Vale of Glamorgan. The back story of an oft reported aparation of a white lady ghost in a field near West Orchard Castle. With a lot of historical context.

We hear about the second crusades, the De Clare family, the Berkerolles family, the Umphraville family, and of course the local castles at the heart of the drama.

The general gist of the story is Jasper Berkerolles of West Orchard Castle marries very well, but always harbours doubts that he is punching above his weight. And when he has to go to war he becomes consumed with jealously that she is having infidelities with his neighbour. When he returns home he is so tormented he condemns her to a gruesome death.

I wrote about this story in my second book on local legends: More legends and folklore from Barry, Bridgend and the Vale.

Telling the story at the place where it is set adds quite an element of drama. Enjoy. And please subscribe to my channel to enjoy more in the future.

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Talks on Glamorgan history and folklore

If you, like me, love a bit of Glamorgan history, folklore and legend, you may be interested in joining me at any number of talks I am giving in the coming months. As I am a guest speaker at most of these I have given details of the organisers so where tickets are required you know how to get them. Hopefully something for everyone here.

May Walks In The Vale Of Glamorgan 2023

with Chris Jones & Guests

7th , 13th, 20th and 27th May

After the incredible success of the 10 Days in May walking festival in 2022, Chris Jones is back with another walking festival through some of the Vale of Glamorgan’s most beautiful and historic locations. The theme is very much the same as last year with guided walks, talks about points of historical interest along the way (provided by yours truly) and some surprise appearances as character actors bring to life the stories associated with the area. It is tremendous fun.

These are the walks in this years event.

Sunday 7th May – The Iolo Morganwg Heritage Walk – Starting and finishing in Cowbridge. Meet for breakfast at The Maple and Bean (opposite Waitrose) at 10am.

Saturday 13th May – Llantwit Major and the Heritage Coast – Starting and finishing in Llantwit Major – Meet for breakfast 9.30am at the Piccolo Blu Cafe.

Saturday 20th May – St Athan and Gileston Walk – Start and finish at Gileston Manor where we will meet for breakfast at 9.30am.

Saturday 27th May – Dunraven Coastal Path Walk – Meet for breakfast at 9.30am at The Three Golden Cups in Southerndown.

If you would like to register for any of these walks then please click on the link go to the Visit The Vale website for information.

If that all looks a bit too energetic, then here are some other talks you might be interested in where the audience is altogether more static:

17th May – Social Sisters Barry (The Lounge, Tadcross) 8pm

10th June (2.00pm) – “The Cult, the Captain and the Baron” – the fascinating history of St Curig’s Church, Porthkerry

📍St Curigs Church, Porthkerry CF62 3BZ

🕰 2pm Saturday 10th June

💰 Free

13th June – WI Penarth

15th June – Cowbridge U3A

1st July – Ogmore Walk and Talk

I will provide information closer to the time for The Ogmore Walk and Talk and the St Curigs Porthkerry talks.

For the other talks above I am a guest of an organisation so you will need to contact them direct for more information. Contact details are available for all on Google.

If are interested in having me come along to one of your events to speak on any of my specialist areas, please click here for more information on what I can offer.

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A great Welsh legend for Good Friday

This is Mynydd Ysgyryd Fawr (or in English; The Skirrid). It lies north of Abergavenny in Monmouthshire. It is also known as ‘The Holy Mountain’.

Technically it is a hill not a mountain but the Welsh word ‘mynydd’ doesn’t have such a strict definition criteria as its English equivalent. It just means big hill.

It has a famous legend attached to it. It was said that at the exact moment of the crucifixion the whole mountain shook until the central section collapsed giving it the distinctive outline we see today.

The name ‘ysgyryd’ is derived from the Welsh word for earth quake.

In the medieval period it was a popular place of pilgrimage and at certain points of the path you can take if you are climbing it, there are old stone steps to help the pilgrims with their ascent. It is well worth the trip as the view from the top is amazing. You can see across 4 counties.

There is also a large flat stone, possibly a Neolithic monument, known as the Devil’s Stone half way up it. This time referencing another legend that the collapsed part of the mountain was used as a seat by Satan himself.

So something for everyone!

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What’s in a name: Laleston

I have quite a strong connection with the village of Laleston, near Bridgend. I grew up in the parish, went to the primary school and sang in the church choir. So speaking as someone with that background who is mad about legends and folklore and the origins of local place names, you can imagine my delight at stumbling across a legend about the origins of the name “Laleston” (or “Trelales” in Welsh). And my embarrassment at only now discovering it.

I am indebted to Bill Howells from the Llynfi Valley History Society for alerting me to it.

The story goes that the village is named after a man called Lales (pronounced “Lalless”) who was a very talented stone mason.

He was not indigenous Welsh but was captured in the holy land during the crusades. He was brought to Wales by his capturer and was put out to general duties on his master’s estate.

However the opportunity to demonstrate his true skills did not present itself quickly. After he had been in Wales for the best part of a year, it came when a stone wall enclosing a field of livestock collapsed during a storm. He was set to work to make good what he could before the animals escaped while a local stone mason was sent for.

When the local craftsman arrived at the scene the wall was not simply patched up as expected. The repairs had been completed and had been done so to a really high standard using techniques which the local man had never seen before.

The stonemason was amazed and asked Lalless how he had done the work and for him to teach the stonemason his unique abilities. Lalless unable to speak a word of Welsh and the stonemason unable to speak his language, the two men communicated solely through mime and gesture and through plans and sketches drawn in the mud with a stick.

They bonded over mutual respect and an appreciation of one another’s skills and through their love of stone.

In time they learned each other’s languages and became firm friends. Lalless converted to Christianity and became popular with local people. He and his friend the local stonemason worked on the construction of many cottages and farms in the area and most particularly the church that has ever since been the parish church of Laleston. But sadly, before the work could be completed he died.

Such was his popularity amongst the people of the village he had helped to build, that the village has ever since been known as Lalless’ town.

It is, I’m sure you would agree, a rather wonderful story. And it does go some way to explaining why the Lale part of “Laleston” is pronounced “Lall” like pal not lale like pale.

Beyond that, how likely is it to be true?

It is hard to say. Some folklore is dreamt up by bards to entertain their audience. But there is also a lot of folklore which has a truth somewhere at the heart of it. Even if evidence to back it up is thin on the ground.

We know that several local knights fought at various crusades. The 12th Century Archdeacon of Brecon and chronicler Gerald of Wales boasted in his writing at how effective he was at recruiting crusaders from amongst both Welsh and Anglo/Norman nobility in our area.

The De Chaworth brothers of Ogmore, Sir Richard Siward of Llanblethian, Sir Hugh Jonnys and Jasper Berkerolles of St Athan to name but a few. And they were lauded for their military prowess. In fact Henry II of England wrote to the Byzantine emperor to praise their military fervour, stating that “they do not hesitate to do battle”. So there is no shortage of candidates to have brought Lalless to our shores.

It wasn’t common place to capture ordinary people even skilled craftsmen and bring them back to put them to work. However kidnapping the heirs of wealthy families and holding them for ransom was very common place. So if this story is true it is more likely this was why we was brought here. And if the ransome was not paid and he was helpful to have around the place then why not keep him on.

Like so many of our fantastic legends, the mystery surrounding its origins is as tantalising as the story itself. And I love that.

Laleston church
The church he helped to build
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The Wreckers of Dunraven

One of my all time favourite Welsh legends this.

Dunraven Castle used to stand on the Glamorgan coast of the Bristol Channel. Not far from Bridgend on the Heritage Coast by Southerndown beach. It has a fascinating history dating back to the Iron Age but nothing is more spectacular about this place than this legend. It is the story of the wreckers of Dunraven. The Lord of the Manor; Walter Vaughan saw his life fall apart when two of his children and his wife died prematurely. He turned to drink and gambling and squandered his fortune away. Then, when at his lowest ebb he turned for help to a henchman, a local pirate, smuggler and wrecker called Matt of the Iron-Hand who had a score to settle with his new partner in crime.

Together, they terrorised sea farers in the Bristol Channel in the sixteenth century.

They would tie lanterns to the sheep grazing on the cliff tops to mimic the lights of Newton, to lure ships onto the jagged teeth of Tuskar Rock. It kept the scavenging, coastal-living folk of the Vale of Glamorgan in a plentiful supply of plunder, washed up on their beaches from the wreckage of numerous merchant ships.

In this video I tell the best-known version of the legend. It deals with grief, greed, avarice and the final tragic outcome when all these things are allowed to come together.

I also answer the obvious question; is this a true story? What sources do we have for it? And where does Iolo Morgannwg fit into all this?

This was all filmed on location at Dunraven Castle on a cold but clear day.

If you want to read more about this story, I wrote about it in my book ‘Legends and Folklore of Bridgend and the Vale’. Also now available for Kindle Download.

In this video I tell the story of Walter Vaughan, the Wrecker of Dunraven and examine the likely truth of this story.
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St Dwynwen the Patron Saint of Lovers in Wales and Welsh bardic romance

The 25th January is the feast day of a 6th century Welsh saint called St Dwynwen. She is the patron saint of Welsh lovers and her own story is suitably romantic.

But who was St Dwynwen? Why is she the patron saint of lovers in Wales? What is her story? Where did that story originate? And more importantly how romantic are the Welsh?

In the video below from the History on your doorstep series we answer these and many other questions. We talk about her fascinating family tree being one of 36 children born of a family full of Kings and Queens and Saints. One of the saintly tribes of Wales. Her father King Brychan (also known as St Brychan) her sister St Gwladys, her nephew St Cadoc, founder of the Clas monastery in Llancarfan and the saint which Cadoxton in Barry is named after.

We also look at the bardic tradition in Wales and some wonderful romantic Welsh stories. Starting with the medieval romantic stories of the Mabinogion like Colhuwch and Olwen and Pwyll and Rhiannon in the first branch. We look at trends in tales of Welsh lovers and the techniques used by bards to bring them to life and look at them in the context of stories from Glamorgan. We also examine what makes them quite different from Romantic stories from ancient Greek folklore and other parts of Europe.

Specifically we look at the folklore behind the naming of the Captains Wife pub in Sully, and the better known romantic stories of the Maid of Cefn Ydfa and the Maid of Sker.

This video is a discussion between historian, author and broadcaster Graham Loveluck-Edwards and the history blogger Claire Miles (AKA Hisdoryan). First broadcast on Bro Radio on Monday 23rd January 2023. We explore the role of the bards in Wales, common themes in Welsh romantic folklore, the creative devices used by the bards to make their stories more credible and engaging.

For further reading on the themes and topics explored in this video I have written several books on local legends and folklore. More information available at https://grahamloveluckedwards.com/shop/

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The swan ladies of Glamorgan

In Welsh folklore, there is no shortage of people able to morph into other forms. A flick through the pages of The Mabinogion can confirm that. There’s the story of Bloden- wedd, who transformed into an owl; Delilah, who transformed into an eagle; and Gilvaethy, who first turned into a deer, then a hog, then a wolf and finally back into a human.

Todays blog is about a more specific trend in Glamorgan folklore from later history. Stories about swans able to transform themselves at will into beautiful girls. I suppose given the delicate, porcelain like features, pure driven snow white complexion, long necks, demure bowed heads and overall glamour of your common or garden swan its probably not that surprising. But it isn’t something you commonly observe so frequently in the folklore of other areas.

These stories not only capitalise on the Welsh tradition for people taking the form of animals and vice versa to achieve a goal, they are also in that hopeless romantic genre so popular especially in the 19th century. A genre where people lose the love of their lives and die shortly afterwards of a broken heart. Or at the very least go mad.

Here are a couple which though unrelated, have a definite thread.

The first is set in the village of Candleston which used to lie between Merthyr Mawr and Tythegston, but these days has been lost to the sand dunes. It was a thriving community in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries which makes it a little easier to date when this story originates from. Probably not co-incidental that this was also a time when it was very fashionable for the castles and great houses of the landed gentry to have a resident Welsh bard come along and stay for a few months, to write stories and songs. These would have been primarily for entertainment, and there were bragging rights to be had from who had the best bard. The stuff they would write would ostensibly be based on stories from history and would usually feature a celebrated descendant of the paying lord doing something tremendously brave or chivalrous. However, sometimes, their output like in this example, would have been purely for their entertainment value.

In this tale, a Candleston inn keeper’s wife had a reputation for keeping a string of lovers behind her husband’s back. What my mother would have described as being “a bit of a girl”. A wizard, seeking to punish her for her propensities, transformed her into a swan. Despite her indiscretions, the inn keeper loved his wife dearly and begged the wizard to turn her back. He refused, saying that she would turn back into human form in a year, by which time she would have learned the value of monogamy.

The inn keeper tied a blue ribbon to one of her wings, so that when she was swimming with the other swans in the estuary of the Ogmore river, he would know his beloved wife from the others. But one day, when she made advances on a male swan, his partner fought her off, and in the struggle that ensued, the ribbon was lost.

When all the swans flew south away, he watched them departing, unable to stop them, or even to spot his wife amongst them to bid her farewell. He never found out where she had flown to, or whether she turned back to her previous human form. They were never united again.

But if the innkeeper had come to hear a certain other local tale, then his story might have had a different ending. This might be total coincidence, but I think I might know where his wife got to.

There is quite a well-known local story about a farmer on Gower, although in some tellings it is set on Barry Island. This was back in the sixteenth century, when the island was still physically detached from the mainland, before it had houses or fun fairs, and the whole island was farmland.

While working in a field above Whitmore Bay, he saw a beautiful swan alighting among the rocks. There she laid aside her feathers and wings, turned herself into a beautiful maiden and bathed in the waters. After a time she put back on her trappings of a swan and flew away.

The amazed farmer watched this repeated on several occasions. Then one day he lay in wait for the swan, and as soon as she was transformed and enjoying the water, he snuck to the water’s edge, seized her swan garments and hid them. When eventually she rose from her bathe, she spied the farmer. Unable to recast herself as a swan, she asked him if he knew where her garments were. He claimed ignorance.

He offered instead to fetch her some clothes from his mother’s house, to save her dignity. This he did, and they walked along the beach together while he consoled her for the loss of her wings. As time passed, they got to know each other, fell in love and got married. For three years all was well. Then one day, by chance, he happened to leave open the oak chest where he had hidden her wings. Spotting them, she was enraged at the deception. However, over the years she had grown to love her husband, so striving to forgive him she said nothing about her discovery.

But having seen the wings, now all she could think about was the freedom of the skies and the life she had once lived. Then the day came when she heard her flock flying overhead. She could resist the call no more. She went back to the chest and put on her wings.

The farmer returned home from work that day to see his beautiful swan-like wife, her wings outstretched, slowly flying into the sunset. Her voice could be heard plaintively crying, ‘Farewell.’ The farmer so bitterly lamented his loss that he pined away and within a few months had died.

There is another version of this story, in which a man from Cadoxton and his friend from Rhoose find another two swan-ladies on Barry Island. Like the farmer, they marry these ladies, taking them back to their homes. However the Cadoxton swan-lady gets run over by a cart (being a swan she was unaware of the dangers of road traffic), while the one in Rhoose re-discovers her wings and takes to the skies. A nice detail of this version is that, after the swan ladies are gone, the two husbands are left to raise their children alone, and they all have conspicuously long necks.

This story was first published in my regular column in the Glamorgan Star. I have compiled these articles into a second book on the subject of local history, folklore and legend called ‘More legends and folklore from Barry, Bridgend and the Vale’. It retails for £12.99 and is available from Amazon, all good book shops or from my own website at a discounted price on this link. It would make a great Christmas present for anyone interested in Glamorgan’s colourful past.

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Barry Island – Land of myths and legends

If you have only ever briefly visited Barry Island or your only point of reference to it is Gavin and Stacy, this video might make your eyes pop out of your head.

Barry Island in the Vale of Glamorgan may be famous for Butlins holiday camp, the beach, the funfair and the arcades. But did you know it is supposedly the site of multiple miracles?

In the 6th or 7th century a monk called Baruc who was originally from Ireland, was a disciple of St Cadoc and was based at the ‘Clas’ Celtic Christian monastery at Llancarfan. He like countless monks before him, was using Barry Island as a retreat but events were to unfold here which would lead to a miracle and the canonisation of St Baruc.

This little known story led to Barry Island being the destination of countless pilgrims for the best part of 1,000 years. All eager to drink the waters of the holy well, claimed to have miraculous healing properties. Barry Island was the ‘Lourdes’ of the Vale of Glamorgan. Yet today very little remains to remind us of this. A few metres of crumbling masonry and a sign and that is about it.

In this latest video I tell the story of St Baruc, his legend, his miracle and his legacy.

I also cover a fun bit of folklore. A story published in 1909 but possibly dating back to the 17th century about two men. One from Rhoose and one from Cadoxton who spot two swans landing on a beach at Barry Island which turned into the women of their dreams.

I hope you enjoy it. If you want to watch more videos like this I have a YouTube channel full of them at https://youtube.com/user/grahamloveluck

If the written word is more your thing, both these stories are lifted from my latest book entitled ‘More legends and folklore from Barry, Bridgend and the Vale’. It is the second volume of such stories and is available at a discounted price from my online store. Just follow the link.

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The Original Maid of Sker

The original Maid of Sker, wooed by a penniless harpist

I am sure many students of literature will be familiar with the romantic novel by RD Blackmore called ‘The Maid of Sker’. You may or may not also be aware that the author grew up in the village of Nottage near Porthcawl. It is Sker house at the end of the dunes in Kenfig that was his inspiration for the story. The name of his novel, however, was borrowed from a much older Welsh legend from a book called Y Ferch o’r Scer, which was translated into English by William Davies of Neath in 1806.

It is claimed that the story originated from an air composed by a local harpist by the name of Thomas Evans. As is the usual way, the story has been further embellished by subsequent retellings and whether it is entirely true is disputed, not least by the family it is about. The characters themselves however are indisputably real.

Isaac Williams of Sker had two daughters. The youngest, Elizabeth, was tall, beautiful, and elegant, and she loved to dance. She lived for the annual Mabsant (festival of the saint). One of the traditions of the Mabsant was that a harpist would be brought in to play throughout the night for the younger members of the community to dance until dawn.

One especially popular harpist was Thomas Evans of the parish of Newton and Nottage, the man credited with writing the song that this legend is based on. The sight of the beautiful Elizabeth Williams, dancing so elegantly through the night, caught his eye and quickened his pulse. He was utterly transfixed with her, and to his joy she made it obvious that his attraction was reciprocated. By the time the sun rose in the morning they were lovers.

When Isaac Williams got wind of this courtship, he was furious. After all, he was a gentleman farmer and lord of the manor, and Thomas Evans was a mere carpenter. He could not possibly be considered a worthy suitor for his daughter, no matter how good a harpist he was. Undeterred, Evans hired a horse and carriage and rode out to Sker House at night, in the hope that he could persuade Elizabeth to elope with him. But his plan was scuppered when he woke the dogs, who started barking and gave the game away. In response Isaac refused to let Elizabeth leave the house, and she was kept a prisoner in her room under lock and key until she was married off to Mr Kirkhouse of Neath.

She never got on with the husband that had been forced on her, and always begrudged him and her father for breaking her heart. She never forgot about her first true love and sought him out wherever there was a Mabsant in the area. She would always find a way to contrive to meet him in secret. On one occasion they were even caught together by her husband.

Eventually she could not take the pain of being without her true love anymore and died of a broken heart. She was buried 6th January 1776 in Llansamlet. Thomas Evans pined for her for so long that he did not take a wife until he had turned fifty. He died in 1819 and is buried in Newton churchyard.

There are obvious parallels between this story and the far more famous one about ‘The Maid of Cefn Ydfa’. May be the Welsh bards liked telling stories about the beautiful daughters of wealthy families falling head over heals in love with penniless bards.

This item is an exert from my book Legends and Folklore of Bridgend and the Vale. Available to buy here.

You may be interested to know that my blogs are published in The Glamorgan Star newspaper.