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It surprises many to learn that the original Jack O' Lantern was not a pumpkin, but a turnip. Read on to learn more. Ghost turnip. NMI Collections F1943.350, Irish National Museum 👈
JACK-O’-LANTERNS – GUIDES THROUGH THE DARK
JACK-O’-LANTERNS – GUIDES THROUGH THE DARK
If you haven’t yet, you may want to read the Celtic Cosmology👈 section (page and sub-pages) first to better understand how Irish Jack-O'-Lanterns served a completely different purpose from the original English usage.
Celtic Practice Becomes Morality Tale
Celtic Practice Becomes Morality Tale
The Irish story of Stingy Jack of the Lantern is about 200 years younger than the English story of Will-o'-the-Wisp (also called Will the Smith). But Stingy Jack’s use of turnip lanterns shows it is probably an Irish version of the English story. The Irish story includes Irish characters, involves the Samhain (say it SOW-win) tradition of leaving carved turnips out on Samhain, and moral lessons common in Irish folk tales (according to scholars Christina Hole, Carol Rose, and Ronald Hutton).
The first clear proof of Samhain carved turnip Jack-o'-Lanterns in Ireland is from the late 1700s and early 1800s. This timing is about the same as when the first English “Will the Blacksmith” stories were written down in print (newspapers, letters, or books). Irish people were carving turnip lanterns when “Jack with the lantern” first appeared in English writing in 1663 CE/AD.
Also, news stories from that time show turnips were also being used outsde Ireland in Somerset and Warwickshire, England, to scare people by leaving them in surprising places. But the first time “Jack with the lantern” was printed (1663 CE/AD), it was used to describe ghost lights in the bog, not carved turnips.
This means Irish turnip carving for Samhain did not come from the English story printed 200 years earlier. Instead, it suggests the Irish story was made to explain old Celtic practices and teach kids not to be dishonest, get drunk, or try to trick the devil after Irish people heard the older British story.
The English “Jack with the lantern” name was first about explaining swamp lights, not turnip carving. The first time “Jack-o'-lantern” was printed to mean a carved lantern was in 1837 in a newspaper in Newark, New Jersey (i.e., not Ireland). Many Irish and Scottish immigrants had settled there. The old English “Jack with the lantern” probably came from a lost folk story explaining swamp lights as a night watchman with a lantern on the moor (read on to learn why: What's in a name? Jack).
People first carved turnips, rutabagas, and later pumpkins (which came to Europe after the Columbian Exchange, when foods from the Americas were brought to Europe). When Irish and Scottish people moved to America, they started using pumpkins instead of turnips.
The first jack-o'-lanterns were not for scaring kids or decorating porches. They were made to help guide dead spirits and the Aos sí (say it EES-she) fairy folk (or fae, supernatural beings and creatures) back to their sidhe (say it SHEE) portals — magical entrances to the Otherworld. On Samhain, people thought spirits could cross over. The lanterns were believed in the folklore to help the wandering spirits and fae find their way back to their Otherworld portals like runway lights guide an airplane landing — to the portals in caves, under springs, under ancient burial mounds, and deep inside sacred groves of trees in forests so they wouldn’t stay among the living too long, and remind them they only had the night of the four Celtic fire festivals to return to the Otherworld or else be trapped in our world.
In England, the jack-o'-lantern idea took a darker turn. There, it got linked to Will the Smith (Will-o'-the-Wisp). The first written story of Will-o'-the-Wisp was in 1663 CE/AD. The Stingy Jack story was written much later, about 150–200 years afterward (around the 1830s).
The name “Jack-o'-lantern” first meant watchmen who carried lanterns at night in the 1600s. Then it started meaning ghost lights in bogs. As this explanation for the mysterious lights in the moors spread, over time, people thought these lights were like a watchman’s lantern, leading them into dangerous marshes or to drown in fast running rivers. Bogs and moors in England can be misty and easy to get lost in. People who followed the lights might end up lost or fall into rivers and drown.
At first, “Jack with the lantern” just meant someone out in the bog with a lantern. But the danger of the bogs inspired the story of Will the Smith likely to protect curious English children from going to investigate them to get lost and die. Then the Irish heard the story and made their own version to teach lessons about good behavior.
In the English story, Will tricked the Devil and was not allowed into hell. He had to wander the marshes with only a glowing coal, leading people to their deaths. His ghostly light was seen as a warning of danger.
Later, this story mixed with the Irish story of Stingy Jack. Jack tricked the Devil many times and was not allowed into heaven or hell. He got a single coal to light his way and put it in a carved-out turnip. He had to wander the earth forever.
This all shows that the English story came first and the Irish version was adapted from it.
What's in a name? A Short Word History of Jack
What's in a name? A Short Word History of Jack
Séamus (say it SHAY-mus) or Seán (say it SHAWN) were the Irish names for John. Thus the Irish story of Stingy Jack yields another clue to its origins as an Irish adaptation of the Will-o'-the Wisp English story.
In England, “Jack” started as a funny or rude nickname for “John” a long time ago during the Tudor times and later when England took over land in Ireland (called the plantation periods).
The name John came into English from the Hebrew name Yochanan (say it YO-kha-nan). Yochanan means “God is gracious,” or “God saves us even when we don’t deserve it.” It is the same name as John the Baptist (who preached that the Son of God was coming and told people to say sorry for their wrongs and get baptized in the River Jordan) and John the Revelator (who, in Christian tradition, wrote the book of Revelation about the end of the world — but today many scholars think the apostle John did not write it).
The name went from Hebrew Yochanan → Greek Ioannes → Latin (Roman) Johannes → French Norman Jehan → English John. After the Normans from northern France (led by William the Conqueror) took over England, French and English words mixed together.
By the 1200s CE/AD (13th century), the slang nickname “Jackin” (also spelled Jachin) or “Jankin” was used for John in England (not in Ireland). Soon after, it got shortened to “Jack.” By the 1400s and 1500s (15th and 16th centuries), “Jack” became a common word to mean “everyman” or “ordinary guy.” It was used to describe a boy or young man (lad), a common worker, a sailor, a servant, or anyone of low rank.
This is also when the saying “Jack of all trades, but master of none” started. It referred to someone who could do a lot of things but wasn't very good at any of them, a put down of someone who could do things but didn't have any skill like those who were skilled through practice. So, Jack became a class based put down, and was a way of saying in 2025 parlance of Generation Millenial, Z, or Alpha, “he's just a basic or mid normie or NPC (non-playing character, a reference to video games) who is all cap." But it wasn't always used as a put down either such as in the phrase, “Watch your back, Jack." It just means regular person, a reference to everyone. And in this case “Jack with the lantern" first appearing in English and later as “Jack of the lantern," it meant there's someone with a lantern in the marsh. But by the time of the first appearance of the Irish story of Stingy Jack or “Jack O' the Lantern," when dialecticized in Irish or Scottish, it had been personified into a character to tell a story with a moral lesson.
From the 1400s and 1500s to now, “Jack” became a popular character in English, Irish, and Scottish stories. He was often a clever trickster or underdog. You can see this in stories like “Jack and the Beanstalk,” “Jack the Giant Killer,” and the Welsh (people from the southeast highlands of England and old Celtic areas like Cornwall) story of “Jack o’ Kent.”
Thus, the first printed use of “Jack with the lantern” was to describe the spooky lights people saw in marshes, swamps, or bogs and probably became a scary story first in England then in Ireland because of the number of kids lost to endless misty bogs and drowning in rivers.
Later, because of the Irish Stingy Jack story (which was a spin-off or indirect effect of the Will-o'-the-Wisp story) and the tradition of carving turnips on Samhain (say it SOW-in), “Jack with the lantern” first meant a sinful everyman. He stood for everyone if we didn’t make good moral choices. Jack showed Irish youth the dangers of a life of sin (making bad choices against God’s wishes). He was a drunk, a liar, a cheat, and made deals with the devil. The story taught kids not to act like him.
Over time, the name for the villain in the Stingy Jack story moved to the carved lanterns we make at Halloween. In England, “Jack with the lantern” explained swamp lights and warned people not to chase them or they might get lost or drown. In Ireland, carving turnips on Samhain started as a Celtic way to guide the fae (fairy folk) back to their portals. Then, they mixed this with the Stingy Jack story about sin. So, the name moved from the sinful man to the carved lantern.
At first in Ireland, the name was more about Stingy Jack the character than the turnip. But slowly, it came to mean just the lantern. It’s funny how meanings change in folktales!
So, Jack-o'-lanterns come from the Irish Celtic and Druidic tradition of carving turnips for Samhain, but the name comes from an English story about swamp lights to scare kids from going into dangerous marshes. The Irish took that story, turned it into a lesson about sin (living an immoral life, of being a habitual chooser of the wrong choices in moral dilemmas), and then the name stuck to the carved gourd. The stories warned youth about three big dangers: the fairy fae who needed respect and awe, the spooky swamp lights that could lead to death, and the dangers of living a sinful life — all very serious dangers to them.
What actually causes swamp or marsh lights or orbs?
What actually causes swamp or marsh lights or orbs?
Today, modern science explains these orbs of light as a rare event. It happens when plants and old stuff in the mud rot or decompose (break down). Tiny microbes (tiny living things that eat dead stuff) eat this material and make gases called methane and phosphine. These gases are very flammable (can catch fire easily).
When enough of these gases get concentrated (get thick or strong enough), they can get burped or belched up from the mud in wetlands. When they touch the air, they can catch fire all by themselves (spontaneously combust) and burn for a short time. This makes the spooky glow and floating lights, or orbs, that people all over the world talk about in their folklore stories.
Different Purposes: Spooklights & Jack-0-lanterns
Different Purposes: Spooklights & Jack-0-lanterns
English ghost, ghast or spook lights left by Will the Bad lure unsuspecting travelers to get lost in endless fog in the moors or to fall into fast running rivers and drown. They're a cautionary tale to warn curious English people about light orbs over misty or foggy moors, peat bogs and swamps that could lead you to dying by hunger or hypothermia in getting lost or by drowning by falling into a fast moving river, with a bit of a morality tale about moral choices worked in.
By contrast, Irish turnip jack-o-lanterns were memory of leaving turnip lanterns to guide the fairy fae and wandering spirits back to the Otherworld sidhe (SHEE) portals on the fire festival days, but most especially Samhain. They were lanterns to ward off and scare the supernatural beings and creatures that lurk about on Hallowmass Eve (aka Samhain), but mixed with the two centuries older English tale Will as a morality tale as well warning Irish youth about the dangers of sin and immorality.
Image Credit 1871: https://askthepast.net/how-to-make-turnip-jack-o-lantern-1873/
The Folk Tales
The Folk Tales
Azriel Anthony wrote the following “Mummers Play Edition” adaptations of Will the Blacksmith and Stingy Jack. These plays may not be used without the express written permission of the author (©2025, see Contact Us👈; educational use is encouraged 👍, but commercial use is strictly prohibited 👎).
You’ll encounter these stories performed live by actors in period dress at Hallowfolk’s® A Folk Halloween Experience®.
Trust both us and our past participants, you'll find it far more engaging, entertaining, and magical to have these tales told to you by Stingy Jack himself, or Will-O'-the Wisps.
Will the Blacksmith aka Clever Will, Bad Will, or Will O' the Wisps & Spook, Ghost, or Ghast Lights
Will the Blacksmith aka Clever Will, Bad Will, or Will O' the Wisps & Spook, Ghost, or Ghast Lights
Will the Blacksmith: The First Will o’ the Wisp
“Wherefore ye shall beware the ignis fatuus, that beguileth travelers in the night marshes with phantasmic gleams, leading them to drown..."
(The Fool steps forward, doffs his hat, and shouts to the crowd)
“Make room there! Stand aside! Here’s a tale worth a penny and a pint — a tale to chill yer bones and set the children squealin’!"
A long time ago, in the misty, boggy lowlands of England — where the moon hangs like a white shillin’ and the reeds whisper secrets — there lived a blacksmith named Will. Folks called him Will the Smith, though some said Cunning Will, others called him Bad Will, for he was tricksy as a fox and twice as sharp.
Will was known for his hammer and tongs, aye, but more for his quick tongue and love of a sly jest.
(Aside, to the audience)
“As is the custom (koo-stum), a man what laughs too loud at his own jokes finds the Devil at his elbow soon enough!”
One raw, foggy night, Death knocked at Will’s forge door, and behind him stood the Devil himself, a grin splitting his black-bearded face.
Will looked up from his glowing anvil and winked. “Ah! The tall reaper and the black rogue, come to fetch my poor old bones! But — as is the custom, a man is due one last drink before his journey!"
The Devil, fancying himself a connoisseur of mortal weakness, nodded and sat for ale. Will poured and poured, spinning tales so wild they near cracked the moon in two.
After many mugs, Will said,
“Before ye take me, good sir, let me show you a smith’s trick no saint nor sinner has seen! Turn yourself into a fine iron nail, and I shall forge you into a marvel for the ages!"
(Aside, hand cupped to mouth)
“As is the custom, a trickster’s tongue can twist even a serpent’s tail!"
The Devil, puffed up with pride, turned at once into a bright iron nail. Will snatched it with tongs, flung it into the roaring forge, and hammered away, sparks flying like fallen stars.
The Devil howled so fierce that the church bells near fell from their towers. At last, shriveled and beaten, he cried for mercy.
Will leaned in close, black soot smeared across his grin.
“Swear now — as is the custom, a fair bargain holds — swear never to take me to Hell, and I’ll free ye!"
The Devil, sizzling with shame, agreed and slithered away in a puff of sulfur.
Years limped by, and Will’s hammer arm grew weak. His eyes dimmed, and he took to mumbling at the hearth. One morning, Death crept alone to his side and took him — no jest this time.
Will’s spirit drifted up to Heaven’s high gate. There stood Saint Peter, stern as frost.
“No room for the likes of thee, Will," he thundered.
(Aside, wagging a finger at the crowd)
“As is the custom, no liar treads the golden path!"
Cast out, Will drifted down to Hell. The Devil stood waiting, arms folded, hoof tapping.
“Ho ho! Look who’s come crawling," said the Devil, his teeth like tombstones.
“But — as is the custom, a bargain binds. No seat by my fire for you, old rogue!"
Will fell to his knees.
“Please, friend! Surely there's a corner for a fellow with a jest?"
The Devil roared with laughter so fierce the flames reared back.
“Ah, Will! You tricked me once, but you cannot trick me twice — but as is the custom, a promise stands. Yet," — he paused, eyes gleaming — “take this coal to light your long, lonesome road!"
With a mighty kick, he sent a glowing ember flying.
Will, groaning and cursed, scooped it up. On the marsh’s edge he found a turnip (tur-nip), and with his smith’s blade, carved a wicked face. He tucked the ember inside.
(Aside, tapping the lantern)
“As is the custom, a lantern lights the road — but beware who follows it!"
From that night to this, Will wanders the fens and bogs, swinging his ghostly lantern — folk call him Will o’ the Wisp. The pale blue glow dances and bobs, tempting travelers off the safe road into the black pools, into the moors and bogs to get lost in endless mist, or else into fast running rivers to drown. So, beware of the spook lights on the moors. They be 'guiding you to your doom.
(Fool leans forward, voice low)
“As is the custom, keep your eyes down and your feet on the track — else Will o’ the Wisp will have your soul for a song!"
Why “Will o’ the Wisp”?
Will: from Will the Blacksmith’s name.
Wisp: an old word for a torch of twisted straw or rushes.
(Fool throws up his hands and cries)
“A lantern for a lost man, a light for a liar — and a lesson for all! So ends our tale. Toss a penny in the pot if ye liked it, and may your path be straight and dry!"
Stingy Jack: Jack “O' " the Lantern
Stingy Jack: Jack “O' " the Lantern
Stingy Jack: The First Jack o’ Lantern
(Fool stamps foot, swings staff)
“Room! Room! Make way for the play! A tale of drink, devilry, and one lantern what’ll haunt yer dreams!"
“Room! Room! Stand aside, good people! Make way for the tale — a tale of drink, devilry, and a lantern carved from a turnip! A tale to curl your toes and sour your beer!"
A long time ago in old Ireland — when the bog roads were black as ink and a pint could buy you forgiveness — there lived a man known far and wide as Stingy Jack. Jack was meaner than a goat in a briar patch, trickier than a fox in a henhouse, and thirstier than a fish at sea.
(Aside to crowd)
“As is the custom (meaning: 'as old tradition says'), a man who loves the drink more than the priest’s blessing is bound to meet the Devil at his elbow!"
One cold and blowy night, Jack sat at his usual spot in the pub, mug dry and pockets empty. He’d drunk through every coin he had — as was his custom, along with lying, cheating, swindling, and being a general cruel and unsufferable conman and crook.
Then suddenly — WHOOOSH! — the door burst open! A cold wind swirled in, though no one had touched the latch. The crowd barely noticed, and those who did saw no one enter the door, but only Jack saw clear: the Devil himself stood there, tall, black-cloaked, and grinning like a butcher’s cat.
Old Scratch stepped forward, his eyes burning bright.
“Ah now, Jack me lad, sure I’ve come for that black heart o’ yours at last!"
(“Ah now, Jack my boy, I’ve finally come for your wicked soul!")
Jack swallowed hard but forced a crooked smile.
“Well now, good sir, surely — as is the custom — a man gets one last wish before he’s dragged below, eh?"
(“It’s tradition to grant a condemned man one final request, right?")
Black Peter squinted then snorted.
“One last wish, is it? Arrah, ye’d talk a bishop outta his boots, so ye would! Go on then, one wish before we go!"
(“Ah, you’re so slippery you could convince a bishop to walk barefoot — fine then, speak your last wish!")
Jack licked his lips.
“I’d fancy one more drink, sure — a final drop to wet the tongue before the fire! I've spent my last on that last pint of ale, and I'd like to have another, if you'd please."
(Aside, tapping belly)
“As is the custom, a man’ll trade Heaven itself for one last sup o’ the black stuff!"
(“A man might choose one last drink over salvation!")
The Devil nodded, and Jack downed his ale. But when the barkeep came round, Jack had no coin to pay.
“Say now, mighty prince of darkness," Jack said sweetly, “would ye be so kind as to turn yerself into a silver coin, just for a blink, so I can pay the good man here?"
(“Will you turn into a coin so I can settle the bill?")
The Devil cackled.
“Ohh, aren’t ye the sly fox! Always up to your old jigs and japes (tricks), eh? But fine — I’ll play along!"
With a flash, he snapped his fingers and became a bright silver coin. But Jack, slyer than sin, shoved it in his pocket — where he kept a small silver cross.
The Devil screamed from the pocket.
“Mother o’ mercy! Let me outta here, ye cursed spalpeen!"
(“Good grief! Let me out, you rotten rascal!")
Jack chuckled, tapped the pocket and winked.
“Not ‘til you swear to leave me be for ten years. Else I’ll keep ye jiggling in me trousers ‘til Judgement Day!"
(“Promise not to bother me for ten years or stay trapped forever!")
(Aside, winking)
“As is the custom, a trickster’s tongue can tie a devil in knots!"
Furious, fuming, burning, and spitting, the Devil agreed, and Jack let him out. With a snap of his fingers, Old Scratch disappeared in an instant like he hadn't just been standing in front of Jack.
. . .
Ten years later, Jack was stumbling home from the pub again — penniless, stumbling, and wobbling with pockets empty, belly full of ale as was his custom — when a shiver ran down his spine, a chill seized him bodily, and goose pimples appeared on the back of his neck. He'd been keeping track of the days and he knew his jig was up.
He wheeled about to see the eyes cast upon him, and as he suspected saw Olde Black Peter waiting, arms crossed, tail twitching.
“Ten years to the tick, and here I am! Did ye think I’d forget, a mhic tíre?"
(say it it: uh VICK TEER-eh, “son of a wolf,";“It’s been exactly ten years — did you think I wouldn’t return, you wolfish scoundrel?")
Jack’s eyes darted to the orchard nearby.
“Now, now — as is the custom — one last wish before I go down below?"
Black Peter groaned.
“By all the banshees, what is it this time?"
Jack pointed to the tallest apple while pointing at the tallest tree in the orchard, naturally the closest to his position at the side of the trail, and pointed at its highest branch, and the largest, juiciest, sweetest apple barely clinging to it.
“I’d like one last sweet apple — that one there, see? Just a taste before I burn forever."
Ole Beelzebub just grunted and snapped his fingers, leaping into the branches like a black cat in one giant leap. At the exact same moment that Old Scratch's cloven hooves left the ground, Jack sprinted nimbly to its trunk, whipped out his blade, and carved a deep cross into the bark. The Devil shrieked from the top branch, “Saints preserve me! Ye’ll be the death o’ me yet!" (You’re driving me mad with these tricks!)
Jack called up, laughing.
“Same deal as before! 'Cept this time, swear ye’ll never take my soul to Hell!"
The Devil howled.
“Yer tongue’s sharper than a tinker’s awl (sharp tool)! Yer wits are slipperier than an eel in a barrel! Sure, it’s a rare soul altogether that can outfox the father of tricksters — and not just the once, but twice, mind ye! Fine then — I swear it! Now get me down, ye cursed bogtrotter!" (You win again. Just get me down, you swamp-born menace!)
Jack cleared the cross, and the Devil dropped to the ground, red with rage.
. . .
Years passed, and at last Jack’s body gave up. His soul floated up to Heaven’s gates, but Saint Peter crossed his arms.
“No place for cheats and liars here!"
(Aside, folding arms)
“As is the custom, no drunkard shares the saints’ supper!" (Heaven’s not for drunks and tricksters.)
“Sure, the Devil’s gossip runs faster than an old wife’s tongue at the fair — no sooner had Jack breathed his last than the word was halfway round the otherworld! So when Jack came wanderin’ down to where he truly belonged, to the gates of Hell itself, who was there waitin’ but the Devil himself, tappin’ his hoof and grinnin’ like a cat at the cream!"
So Jack’s soul drifted down to Hell. There stood the Devil, leaning on the fiery gates, grinning from horn to hoof.
“Well now, Jack, ye belong here sure enough — but a promise is a promise. I’ll not take ye!"
Jack fell to his knees.
“Please, my evident sire! I’ve no place else! Let me in, for I’ve nowhere else to wander!"
The Devil roared with laughter so fierce the flames bent backward.
“A promise is a promise — and who’d make a deal with the Devil if they thought he wouldn’t keep his word? Hah! Take this ember, and may it light your endless wandering above! Off with ye now — be gone, Jack o’ the Lantern!"
With that, he kicked a burning coal (ember) from Hell at Jack’s feet. Jack picked it up and stumbled away into the dark.
Passing a turnip patch, he yanked one up, hollowed it with his blade, carved a wicked face, and set the ember inside.
(Aside, eyes wide)
“As is the custom, a lantern wards off worse things than shadows!"
Ever since, Jack has roamed the dark hills and misty roads, a ghostly turnip lantern lighting his way. Folks call him Jack of the Lantern — or Jack o’ Lantern.
(Fool steps forward, big finish, staff in air)
“And after all... who’d make a deal with the Devil if they thought he wouldn’t keep his word?!"
(Bows deep, cap in hand)
“Toss us a coin if ye liked the tale — or else Jack may come tap-tap-tappin’ at your window come All Hallows’ Eve!"
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