Come, gather round all,And I’ll tell you a taleOf murderous magicFrom here, in this Dale. Up on’t moor above Ramsgill,Two great crags you’ll seeAnd how they got their nameIs an old mystery. Some say they were giants!Ancient sentinels turned to stone.Back when Albion fellTo the new gods from Rome, Others say they’re witches!Jenny Twigg and her…

Words on the Wyrd side We recently took a strange kind of walk in one of our favourite wild places. The two bags we carried held the last known copy of Songs & Poems in a Nidderdale Dialect by Greenhow poet Thomas Blackah, 30 pebbles painted with our favourite old Nidderdale words, 30 sprigs of…