Meon Hill - a little ditty for Halloween.
Meon Hill is just a few miles down the road from where I’m sitting. It’s the northern-most of the Cotswold mounds, and occupies a space where Warwickshire meets Gloucestershire meets Worcestershire. Like lots of hills, there’s an aura of mystery, legend and superstition surrounding it.
Legend 1. The devil kicked a lump of earth at the newly built Evesham Abbey, but the Abbot’s prayers were too strong, the devil missed, and the lump of earth became Meon Hill.
Legend 2. More chucking of rocks and stuff. The devil stood on top of Meon Hill, and threw a rock at Evesham Abbey. He missed, and the rock became the topmost piece of nearby Cleeve Hill.
Legend 3. The phantom hounds of the Celtic king Arawyn are said to hunt the hill by night, taking their victims down to the underworld.
The Abbey managed to survive all the rock chucking and hunting dogs, but unfortunately couldn’t survive the English monarchy - all that remains is the bell tower following the dissolution of the monasteries in the 16th century.
Meon Hill, however, remains a source of mystery. Witchcraft stories abound. Those believed to be witches were routinely despatched round these parts by pinning them through the throat into the ground with a pitchfork, and carving a cross into their chests. And I know that right now you’re thinking “Yeah, but that was centuries ago, right?” Eeeerrm ........ no. The last ritual killing of a supposed witch was of an old chap called Charles Walton on Valentines Day, 1945. It seems that Charles had a taste for rough cider, and thought he could talk to the birds and animals, so obviously, he was a witch.
Just a suggestion – if you’re visiting these parts – don’t act weird. Oh, and watch the rough cider too. Right, I’m off to the pub. Think I’ll take the dog for protection.
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Black dogs are prowling, looking for a kill
Someone’s running out of time, out on Meon Hill
Stay home tonight, this is not a bad dream,
Lock all the doors, you won’t hear the screams, out on Meon Hill
Something’s going down tonight, up on Meon Hill
Growling and snarling – here come those hellhounds,
You’ll see nothing in their eyes - as they pull you underground, out on Meon Hill
Black dogs are prowling, looking for a kill
Someone’s soul’s on the line, up on Meon Hill