Weight in my belly;
trees on my back;
nails in my ribs;
feet I do lack.

Black we are and much admired,
men seek us if they are tired,
We tire the horse, comfort man,
guess this riddle if you can.

Thirty white horses on a red hill,
first champ, then stamp, and then stand still

Round like an apple, deep like a cup,
yet all the king’s horses cannot pull it up.

What force and strength cannot get through,
I, with a gentle touch, can do.
And many in the street would stand,
were I not a friend at hand.

Only one color, but not one size,
stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies;
present in sun, but not in rain;
doing no harm, and feeling no pain.

Little Miss Eticote
In her white petticoat
And her red nose
The longer she stands
The shorter she grows

Old Mother Twitchet had one eye
and a long tail that she let fly.
And every time she went through a gap,
she left some tail in the trap

What does this represent?

Wear
Black