#leithsands — Public Fediverse posts

The Pennybap Stane; the thread about Shellycoat and an enchanted Seafield rock

You’re probably wondering how The Boy got here, on a pleasant late spring evening, on top of a random boulder at the sewage works. Well, for you to understand, I need to go back to the start.

The Boy on a big stone outside Seafield Sewage Works. Photo © Self

You see this isn’t just any old random boulder, in fact this is a very particular boulder and it is not random, it was placed here intentionally on reclaimed land on the Seafield foreshore as an ornamental feature in the mid 1970s as part of the landscaping of the car park when Seafield Sewage Works was established in the mid 1970s.

The stone in the car park of Seafield Sewage Works, 1981. Photo taken by Bill Collin © Edinburgh City Libraries

The boulder is named the Pennybap Stane after its apparent resemblance to the sort of bread roll which was once sold for 1d (a “penny bap”). This stone is a large glacial erratic left behind by a retreating ice sheet and, although it would have been easier to simply leave it with the infill behind the sea wall during the land reclamation, the authorities went to the effort of relocating it for a particular reason. You see, this is an enchanted rock; the Pennybap Stane is the home of a bogle. Bogle or bogill is a Scots word meaning variously a scarecrow (hence, Tattiebogle), the childrens’ hiding game bogle-keek (hide-and-seek); or as bogle-bo, bogill-bae or boggart, a hobgoblin, ghost, or spectre. This last form is the oldest, going back to the 16th century. Related terms include the Middle English bugge or the Old Welsh bwg and these cognate with the modern terms bugbear, bogeyman and bugaboo.

“Th’ boggarts taen houd o’ my Dad!” Victorian illustration.

The bogle that calls the Pennybap Stane home is Shellycoat, a name going back to at least the 17th century and which is mentioned in the writings of Alan Ramsay the elder in The Good Shepherd. Such bogles are mysterious creature of Lowland Scots mythology, said to haunt the rivers of Liddesdale and Eskdale, particularly the Hermitage Water and the lands of Goranberry. A Perthshire Gaelic equivalent is Peallaidh, or in Lewis, Seonaidh. Shellycoat’s form is a large, man-like creature “clothed in a coat covered with shells, the rattling of which was so unnatural and unexpected, that it appalled the hearts of all who heard it“. The riparian Shellycoat haunts upland streams, leading country travellers astray with its cries of “Lost! Lost!” and a splashing sound akin to the noise of somebody drowning. No matter how far you follow it, you will never get closer. When it tires it will finally leap past its pursuers and can be heard loudly laughing and clapping, amused with itself. In this form it is a trickster, it likes to tease but does no real harm.

The coastal Shellycoat however, the sort that inhabits the seashore of Leith, is altogether different. Its coat of shells renders it a powerful, malignant and terrifying force. During the day it will keep the coat safe beneath the Pennybap Stane rendering it mortal and harmless, but this rock is also how you summon the creature to appear; running around it three times, chanting three times the following verse:

Shellycoat, Shellycoat, Gang awa hame, I cry nae yer mercy, I fear nae yer name!

“Shellycoat, Shellycoat, Gang Awa Hame, I Cry Nae Yer Mercy, I Fear Nae Yer Name”

The summoning darkens the skies and the bogle will appear howling through the skies, accompanied by a cacophony of rattling shells from the heavens, from the direction of Inchkeith island where it is said to reside. Whomever is so bold, or foolish, as to summon the beast will be carried off to their fate beneath the coat of shells. If they are virtuous and promise never to repeat their offence, they will be spared. If they break that promise, the next victim will be dropped into the Forth.

John Gabriel Stedman, “Inchkeith on the Forth in a Fresh Gale”. CC-by-NC National Galleries Scotland.

You may think me foolish to encourage a child to try summoning Shellycoat, but moving the Pennybap Stane from its original home on the foreshore appears to have broken the charm. Perhaps they can no longer get their coat beneath. Perhaps cutting it off from the sea and surrounding it with tens of thousands of tons of the demolition rubble of the old city has lessened its powers. Perhaps…

“Shellycoat, Shellycoat, Gang awa hame, I cry nae yer mercy, I fear nae yer name.” Photo © Self

This isn’t even the first, or only, Pennybap Stane, and there are at least two other erratics recorded on the Leith and Granton foreshore of this name and the smaller Ha’pennybap Stane too. The Seafield stone is preceded by one on the North Leith foreshore which stood in front of James Craig’s battery of Leith Fort. Shellycoat is also associated with this rock, a “monster fiend, gigantic but undefinable, who possessed powers almost infinite, who never undertook anything, no matter how great, which he failed to accomplish; his swiftness that of a spirit and he delighted in deeds of blood and devastation“.

In Tales, Traditions and Antiquities of Leith of 1865, William Hutchison relates a story of the North Leith Shellycoat. The 18th century legend features English Dick, a man said to descend from Cromwell’s garrison in the Leith Citadel. English Dick refused scornfully to believe in Shellycoat and wagered a gallon of wine that he would go to the Pennybap Stane, perform the summoning ceremony and that nothing would come of it. The wager accepted, the party set off for the North Leith sands that very night. When his drinking companions would go no further English Dick shook their hands and proceeded alone, promising to return within the half hour. His friends thought better of waiting around and retreated to a tavern – the Foul Anchor – to await him in more convivial surroundings. It was hours – and many drinks – later when they noticed that English Dick had not yet returned. Come midnight, they could not summon the courage to search the shore for him, so agreed to remain safely within the pub until first light before venturing out.

Leith From the West”, engraving by John Clerk of Eldin, showing the North Leith foreshore at the turn of the 19th century, before the wet docks came. National Galleries of Scotland collection.

Hours passed and with the first light of a cold dawn those who were still able to stand finally crept down to the shore where they found the body of English Dick, insensible at the base of the Pennybap Stane. He was cut, battered and bruised but still hung on to life. His recovery was a long, drawn out process and he refused to tell his friends what had become of him that night. It was many months before he was fit enough to make it down to the Foul Anchor and to relate his story of meeting with Shellycoat.

Three times he had run around the stone that night and three times he had chanted the rhyme. Nothing happened. Thinking he was triumphant, he turned to leave and to collect his gallon of wine, when from the direction of Newhaven “without any premonition I was startled by the most appalling noise“. It was as if “all the shells in the universe had been collected together and then carried up into the air by a fierce tempest and dashed against each other with uncontrollable fury“. Looking fearfully around, English Dick then saw the presence of a giant figure emerging from the sea, towering over him with a single stride to the accompaniment of “the infernal clatter and clash of shells“. Then, in a terrifying voice of “singular softness“, Shellycoat demanded to know why he had been summoned, before enveloping English Dick beneath his coat and carrying him off in the sky towards Inchkeith, where he was dropped on the highest promontory of that island. To the booming laughter of Shellycoat, echoing off the rocks and cliffs of the Fife foreshore, English Dick was now repeatedly hit with blows of earth and rock hurled by his foe. Each time he was thrown down, and each time he was lifted up again to be assaulted once more. The repeated blows and the demonic laugh of Shellycoat caused him to eventually pass out and as the day broke he found himself coming to, floating in the sea. No sooner had he begun to gather his senses than he was picked up again and carried off once more into the skies under the coat of shells. When he was finally released from the grip of the beast he was dropped him from a great height. The next English Dick knew, he was being roused by his friends in the “Foul Anchor”, having been carried there after they found him by the Pennybap Stane.

(An alternative story was put forward by a barfly in a different tavern in Leith: Dick had taken fear from his dare and instead of going straight to the rock, had proceeded to a different establishment to “take courage”. In doing so, he got blind drunk and finally going back to the rock to complete his challenge had climbed atop and fallen off, dashing himself on the rocks and being thrown around by the tide).

When it was demolished in 1819 to make way for the new wet docks its legend appears to have been transferred to the Seafield rock. This was probably because bathers and – more importantly – children were displaced down the coast to the latter location by the removal of the natural sea shore for docks and industry.

The Pennybap Stane, beneath which Shellycoat keeps its coat of shells. Photo © Self

You can choose which version of events you believe… But stories like this kept the folk mythology around the Pennybap Stane and Shellycoat alive. The newspapers helped too. The rock is mentioned in the Shetland Times in 1888. In 1899, the Leith Burgh Pilot relates that children would climb atop the stone and jump into the sea from it (they would also climb up the sewer pipes that discharged onto the beach in a different game of dare). In June that year, the body of a “well dressed man” washed up near the Pennybap Stane. It was that of the Rev. William Boe, long time minister of the Scotch Church in Longtown, Cumberland, and then residing in Portobello, who had fallen from a boat at Portobello weeks previously. Children of course came up with a different explanation of how the body came to be in a state of decomposition at the foot of the stone. In 1906, the Scotsman went as far to publish adverts asking its readers “Have You Ever Heard of SHELLYCOAT?” to advertise a new “True Tales of Leith” section in their weekly edition.

But it was long the allure of Shellycoat that drew youngsters beyond the edge of town to run thrice around the stone chanting those lines, “Shellycoat, Shellycoat, Gang awa hame, I cry nae yer mercy, I fear nae yer name“. When the Lothian Regional Council came to build their grand new sewage works at Seafield in the early 1970s, they intended to simply bury the stone within the infill behind the new sea wall. A local outcry however caused a change of heart and it was decided to relocate the stone. Alas! The crane carrying the stone dropped it, causing some of it to break off. As a result, the stone in the car park is only part of the former Pennybap stone (a comparison of the photo of the girls and The Boy on the stone confirms that although it’s the same stone undoubtedly it seems smaller now than then). Phyllis Cleary said of this state of affairs:

What a specimen it looks now – I feel so sorry for it. It no longer shows any link with the past, but stands at the gates of the sewage farm like some imposter professing a history which it cannot substantiate. So are the mighty fallen. It would probably have been better to have left it in its natural resting place.

I will end with further wise words of Phyllis Cleary:

We have curbed the sea, we have reduced a king of boulders to a scrap of indeterminate stone. What shall we do next?

“Shellycoat, Shellycoat, Gang Awa Hame, I Cry Nae Yer Mercy, I Fear Nae Yer Name”. © Edinburgh City Libraries

Note to readers: unfortunately in April 2026, a third-party plug-in more than exceeded its authority and broke many of the image links on this site. No images were lost but I will have to restore them page-by-page, which may take some time. In the meantime please bear with me while I go about rectifying this issue.

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Coastal Evolution: the thread about a view of Leith’s disappearing Sands and their industrial past

It’s not easy to get your head around where the shoreline was in Leith at a given time, the natural coast has been altered beyond all recognition by human activity in the last 500 years. Slowly and gradually at first, and then it marched northwards into the Forth in ever-expanding dock building activity in the 19th and first half of the 20th century. The best way to visualise it is, naturally, with a visualisation.

The animated evolution of the shoreline at Leith, quoting source maps. © Self.

The earliest view showing the shoreline and Leith Sands that I can think of is a beautiful sketch by John Slezer made around 1693. The sands are on the right where the figures are; notice that already by this stage there is a prominent and solid masonry breakwater. This defends the Timberbush from the sea. From the French word Bourse – for exchange – this was where imported timber was sorted, stored and traded. The stacks of timber can be seen and as this was a very valuable commodity, and the principal import source for Scotland, it had to be defended from nature. The harbour pier is a mixture of stone, turning into timber. The buildings of the Shore are on the left, the prominent tower belonging to the King’s Wark, which was brought down not long after this picture was made.

The Piere of Lieth by John Slezer, 1693. Edinburgh and Scottish Collection, Edinburgh City Libraries.

One hundred and fifty years after John Slezer’s sketch was made, Dominic Serres painted the scene. Here the artist is positioned alongside the pier, looking south towards the Shore with the Tower of the “Windmill” at its head. We can see that the pier itself has been reinforced in a rather ramshackle manner by timers and masonry. Small boats have been brought ashore, with the catch of the day being sold directly to assembled hawkers on the sands. And in he foreground we see a supply of timber; it was the old custom to float it ashore on the tides before storing it in the Timber Bush. Leith Sands ran off to the left (east) from here.

“Back of the Old Leith Pier”, Dominic Serres, 1855. Edinburgh and Scottish Collection, Edinburgh City Libraries.

While today the shoreline of Leith is almost entirely concrete and boulder breakwaters, with the little strip of sand strictly off limits behind the Dock security fences, it was not always this way.

Leith’s modern shoreline. A sad and now inaccessible industrial wasteland. “Leith Docks, Perimiter Road, Kate Downie, 1985. © Edinburgh City Art Centre

One hundred and fifty years prior to this, this spectacular 1886 photo by Begbie (no, not that one, I mean Thomas Vernon Begbie) shows the palisade retaining wall on the sands, formed to level the ground behind for the coming of the Edinburgh & Dalkeith Railway to South Leith in 1835. On the left we see the industrial chimneys and kilns of the glass manufactory, gas works and chemical works.

Thomas Vernon Begbie, 1886, Edinburgh and Scottish Collection, Edinburgh City Libraries.

It’s actually two photos, intended to make a panorama, and each was taken stereoscopically. I’ve joined them together and put them through a colourising app. Now, I usually avoid these apps as a matter of principle but on this occasion there is an obvious benefit in helping the features we see stand out.

Thomas Vernon Begbie, 1886, Edinburgh and Scottish Collection, Edinburgh City Libraries.

Let’s take a look up closer. On the left we can see the glass bottle kilns or “cones” of the Edinburgh and Leith Glassworks. Glassmaking arrived in Leith with the English occupation by Oliver Cromwell’s Protectorate in the 1650s, establishing itself in the Citadel of that force. It really got going a century later when it moved across the river to South Leith. Beyond are the chimneys of the Leith Gas Works and the row of vertical tubes which were the condensers. The light coloured building on the right of those is the passenger building of South Leith Station. The various sidings for the goods yard fan off to the right.

Industries. Thomas Vernon Begbie, 1886, Edinburgh and Scottish Collection, Edinburgh City Libraries.

In the middle, the proud looking fellow in his pale work clothes and a waist coat stands amongst the shoreline rocks and the whins. Note that the chemicals used in camera plates at this time were often insensitive to certain blues, and working clothes often come out looking pure white but were more likely to have been pale blue-grey denims. We see the Tower down on the Shore on the left, peeping out between the chimneys. By this time it was used as a signal station for communicating with ships entering the port, the masts of which can be seen in the distance. Behind our fellow are the goods sheds, timber sheds, railway wagons etc. of the busy dockland. Another group pose behind the palisade on his left.

Poser. Thomas Vernon Begbie, 1886, Edinburgh and Scottish Collection, Edinburgh City Libraries.

To the right we see a family picnicking amongst the whins – this scrubby, bushy coastal rough ground of coastal grasses and gorse were the natural flora of the shoreline. Children, squatting down, are scratching about in the sand on the right. In the distance,”bathing machines” make their ponderous way in and out of the sea in the middle ground, and further away still is the dock breakwater and Martello Tower. The smudge of smoke might at first suggest that there is an occupant in the tower, but it was likely never armed or garrisoned at this time, and it’s probably a passing steamship.

Bathers on the sands. Thomas Vernon Begbie, 1886, Edinburgh and Scottish Collection, Edinburgh City Libraries.

The people of Leith have a long history of using the sands for leisure. The annual highlight of the Leith year (and a fixture in the Scottish calendar) was the Leith Races, which you can read about on their own thread.

Note to readers: unfortunately in April 2026, a third-party plug-in more than exceeded its authority and broke many of the image links on this site. No images were lost but I will have to restore them page-by-page, which may take some time. In the meantime please bear with me while I go about rectifying this issue.

If you have found this site useful, informative or amusing then you can help contribute towards its running costs by supporting me on ko-fi. This includes my commitment to keeping it 100% advert and AI free for all time coming, and in helping to find further unusual stories to bring you by acquiring books and paying for research.
Or please do just share this post on social media or amongst friends and like-minded people, sites like this thrive on being shared.

Explore Threadinburgh by map:

Travelers' Map is loading...
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These threads © 2017-2026, Andy Arthur.

NO AI TRAINING: Any use of the contents of this website to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

#Lochend #Logan #Restalrig #StMargaret