I too have heard the sound of charging horses, but they were not running round those familiar race courses.
The village folk heard it night after night as if a team of horses were in full flight..
It seemed to come from beneath the ground as if they were running round and round.
The story tells of long ago when a coach and horses came thundering through the snow.
A fiercely blizzard swept up from hell and where the coach and horses went, no one could tell.
The horses fell deep into a ravine and the coach and passengers were never heard or seen.
They disappeared and no trace was found but night after night came that familiar sound.
Deep ravines lay hidden beneath the hills and one day they found a set a wheels; although they were damaged and beyond repair, the village folk were quite aware.
Could this be what they were waiting for, a key to open up the door.
A door that had been closed for over two hundred years and made a village live within its fears.
Into the ravine went four brave men, aged between four score years and ten.
Down they went with ladders and rope these four brave men with minds full of hope.
There at the bottom lay a sad sight as they shone their torches into the dead of night.
The ravine had now become a burial site and the story now told had come to light.
Lost in a blizzard all those years ago and swept into a ravine by blinding snow; first the horses then the coach deep into darkness where no one could approach.
Death and destruction lay hidden for years, tormenting the village with gossip and fears.
The sound of horses still run underground which has now become a familiar sound.
