Underfoot, it's lucky and round, Keeps the horse's hoof safe and sound. A symbol of fortune, for those who believe, In the old country, it was nailed with reprieve.

I am an animal product, with a medieval feel. I reigned a good part of the millennium though, until I was dethroned by steel. I drink from a little vase, on paper and parchment I leave my trace.

I’m oceans breath or perfume’s play, a thousand droplets that drift away.

Celebrated since ancient times, twice a year I appear. Once when it's Cold and Once when it's Warm. Stones show when I am here.

If something is left unkempt, a colony attempts. By the point you notice it, what was a ripeness is past tense. Smells, rancid, start to vent. Experienced it upsets sense. From spoiled, to the core it’s used, as vocal, to ferment.