The Tale of the Devil and the Hole in Clitheroe Castle
Right then, sit thissen down an’ I’ll tell thi t’ tale as it were told to me, in t’ owd Lancashire fashion.
Up on top o’ yon rocky hill stands Clitheroe Castle, which I telt ye all about afore, it’s one o’ t’ smallest keeps in all England, an as’ stood theer for more nor eight hundred year, lookin’ out ower Ribble Valley. But on t’ side o’ that keep, just above t’ door, there’s a gurt big hole. Not a neat winder, mind thee, a proper jagged hole, big enough for a man to lean through, an’ it’s allus been theer as long as folk can remember.
Now, how did it come about? Well, there’s more nor one tale, but t’ owdest an’ best is this ’ere.
The Devil’s Apron
One day t’ Devil hissen got it into his yed that Clitheroe Castle were a bit too proud for its own good. So he sets off up Pendle Hill, to a spot still called t’ Devil’s Apronful. He gathers up all t’ biggest stones he can find an’ tips ’em into his gurt leather apron. Then he takes aim at t’ castle an’ lets fly wi’ a massive boulder.
But t’ weight were too much. T’ apron strings snapped wi’ a crack, an’ all t’ rest o’ t’ stones came tumblin’ out onto t’ hillside. T’ boulder he threw went wide an’ landed near Pendleton church instead. T’ Devil were fair fumin’. He kept chuckin’ more rocks till one on ’em hit true an’ tore a hole clean through t’ keep wall. Some say he just kept on till t’ hole were big enough to please him. Either way, that hole’s still theer today for all to see.
from the Nick O’ Pendle
Cromwell’s Cannon
There’s another yarn, a bit newer. Folk say in t’ Civil War, Oliver Cromwell hissen had a cannon dragged up Pendle Hill an’ fired one shot that punched t’ hole straight through. It’s a fair distance, mind, an’ no records say owt about it, but t’ tale gets told all t’ same.
Historians, o’ course, reckon it started as a narrow winder, like an’ arrow-slit or summat, that just got bigger wi’ wind an’ weather ower t’ years. Happen they’re reet.
But on a wild day, when t’ wind howls through that hole an’ ye look across to Pendle, it’s easy to believe t’ owd story. Somewhere up yon hill t’ Devil once stood wi’ his apron full o’ stones, took his shot at Clitheroe Castle, an’ left his mark for evermore.
An’ that’s how it were told to me.
Thank-you for reading. If you enjoyed this piece and would like to support further articles on the wildlife and history of the Northwest, you can buy me a coffee here.
Alex Burton-Hargreaves
(Oct 2026)
