Old people say there was once a great stone to St. Andrew's parish.
And on top, under the lichen, there were words, but nobody could read them for they were all that weathered away, till a boy came and felt them clear with his fingers. And the words told:
"Hoik me over and
You'll not waste your time."Well, of course, that meant treasure, and they were levering and lifting to turn the stone, and a great stone it was, high as a horse and longer.
Well they got it up at last, end over and down. And they found more lettering, plain as when it was cut:
"I was tired of lyingOn that side."
The Big Stone
I finished weeding the 300's in July. At the end were the 398's, Folklore. Folklore doesn't become dated, so I didn't discard much, apart from some yellowed paperbacks. In The Guizer, by Alan Garner, "a collection of stories about fools." I found this story, which Garner took from the manuscript, Guernsey Folk Lore, by Edgar MacCulloch, (1903). I love it because it sounds like the kind of leg-pull you might encounter in a text-adventure game such as Zork: