Come with me to a village in the south of Wales.

It's sometime in, oh, let's say, the mid to late 1700s.

The Christmas season is upon us, meaning it's sometime between Christmas Day and 12th night.

We're cozy and warm in our little village home.

The place smells divine because in the kitchen, someone

is practicing that uniquely Welsh Christmastime tradition of making toffee. From the window,

we can see children going door to door singing in return for money or a treat, a wassailing

tradition known as Kalening. In the distance we may hear gunfire from the annual Wren hunt.

Then we hear a raucous, ruckus coming up the street.

A group of voices shouting and laughing and singing off key.

It grows loud as it approaches us until finally,

there's a knock at the door.

Well, I'm not answering that. You do it. You go to the door and open it.

And what to your wondering eyes should appear, but... Well, actually, what the heck is that?

Kind of hard to describe, actually.

A horse's skull propped up on a pole?

Like a giant and very macabre version of a children's hobby horse toy.

There are ribbons dangling from the skull,

some kind of bulb bulging in the eye sockets,

and a large sheet draping over the pole

and covering the person or persons carrying it

and doing that dance macab.

...