When the ‘Scutt Gargan’ died, James Kearney from Moybologue bought his little house. “The ‘Scutt’s’ hearth stone would be lovely in my place” thought Kearney, so he dug it up and installed it in his own place “lovely jubley” he thought #Ghost 
That night the most horrid roars and yells ever you heard started around the old house and the roars could be heard for miles. It was the same the next night and the next night again and every night for two months #Ghost
The neighbours would be out listening and very few of them would go that way home after dark. In the end they couldn’t stick it any longer “we can’t stick this much longer” they thought #Ghost
A neighbour went to Kearney to tell him to put the hearth stone back. “Kearney, will you put the hearth stone back in the Scutt’s house?” “I will” “Good man, the old people have A great reverence for the hearth stone”. “I’m beginning to see that” said Kearney #Ghost
As soon as he put the hearth stone back, the roaring and the yelling stopped. The hearth was, of course, the very centre of the house. It’s no wonder the Scutt was annoyed #Ghost
Nellie was called ‘the Repealer’ because she used to go to all Daniel O’Connell’s Repeal meetings (FYI O’Connell was the greatest politician in pre-famine Ireland). She died. #Ghost
Her family buried her in Moybologue graveyard but not in the grave that she had chosen. If she was a good woman to make noise at Repeal meeting, it was nothing like the racket she caused around her house at night after she was buried #Ghost
Her ghost kicked up such a fuss that her brother had to go out at night, lift her out of the grave and bury her in the one she wanted to be buried in. After that, she was happy enough and she never bothered anyone again #Ghost
There was a lad down in Killinkere, near Baileborough and he was in the habit of making poteen. He was out some place and when he came home his mother was standing in the butter churn in the kitchen “Howya Mam” #Ghost
It was only when she didn’t answer that he remembered that she was dead. “I suppose this is some kind of a warning” he mused. And sure enough the next week the guards raided the house looking for the poteen still #Ghost
Our old friend Barney Gargan tells how one night when his mother was going to bed she “raked the ashes” (smoothed our the ashes in the fireplace). In the morning she saw “the track of an infant’s foot in the ashes facing towards the door” #Ghost
“An infant child died in that house soon after”. Not really a #Ghost but some sort of message from the ancestral otherworld very often seen at Halloween
A tall man with chains on his feet used to be seen near the big house at Quilca (near Mullagh, County Cavan, not Quilca, Peru- thanks google). He would be dressed in black and the old people would tell you that he was Dean Swift (honestly, I’m not making this up) #Ghost
Owen Clarkin and a lad called Brady were coming home from Virginia one night. “I wouldn’t be afraid of the devil” said Clarkin. “Right so” said Brady “what’s that coming rolling down the road” #Ghost
“It looks like a barrel” said Clarkin. As the barrel rolled past them it attacked Clarkin, rolled over him and would have killed him only that Brady was able to save him. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that” admitted a clearly shaken Clarkin #Ghost
Tommy Findlay from Tierworker got a job in a big house near Kells. The lady that owned it had a cat called ‘Satan’. He said it was an awful place for ghosts. A man that died came back in the shape of a bull. In the end they had to call the priest #Ghosts
The priest arrived and he said “I’ll make a ring of holy water and we’ll stand inside it”. The bull arrived, roaring, but he couldn’t get in (presumably to the ring). The priest ‘settled’ him but the priest died shortly after #Ghost
James Argue, 80 yrs (in 1944) recounts how County Councillor Paddy Farrell - “a man that would never tell a lie” told him that he met old Frank McGrane carrying a shovel in his shoulder one night and McGrane was dead these 3 years #Ghost
A lad was coming home near Virginia on a horse one night. Suddenly the horse made a jump and “something in the shape of a man” attacked the horse. The horse and the shape fought like divils. #Ghost
The rider could scarcely believe it. He couldn’t believe it either when the Ghost killed his horse. He had to walk home. #Ghost
A ghost in the shape of a pig used to come out of the lime kiln at Cliffin (parish of Kilkinkere). He had “mad, glaring eyes and powerful tusks and was very vicious looking”. Despite his formidable appearance “he was never known to do anyone any harm” #Ghost
Join me again tomorrow night 9pm for more Cavan ghost stories. If you enjoy it, please retweet it #Ghost
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