T’poor owd hoss in Richmond

Dates back to the 17th century or earlier
 
Back when I was a little girl, I played hide and seek in the marketplace, running around the stalls full of oranges and vegetables and birds and rabbits for the Christmas table. I peered out between the tables, looking for my brother, and I saw a ghost. It had a white horse’s skull with black eyes, and it floated in the air, and there were huntsmen, shouting and laughing and singing. There was a fiddle and a fife and a drum. The ghost chased people and then fell to the ground. The men played their hunting horns and he jumped back up. The ghost saw me and snapped his jaws, and I screamed so loudly that my brother came running. I had nightmares all through that Christmas, and my mama came every night to comfort me. My papa explained that it wasn’t real, but the bad dreams still came. So, he took me to meet the man who played the Poor Old Hoss. He showed me the skull, with black glass in its eye sockets, and the black cloak that made it look like it was floating in the dark. He let me hold the pole that supported the skull and showed me how to make its jaws open and shut. He told me that they sang the story of the horse, from his birth, then growing up, getting old and dying, then coming back to life, like the year getting to its end and then starting again.
 
My nightmares stopped, but I still don't really like horses.