Black I am and much admired, Men seek me until they tired. When they find me, they break my head, And take from me my resting bed. What am I?
Black were are and much admired, Men seek for us if they are tired We tire the horse but comfort man, Tell me this riddle if you can.
Never resting, never still. Moving silently from hill to hill. It does not walk, run or trot, All is cool where it is not. What is it?
