STEWBALL Lyrics

STEWBALL Stewball was a good horse He wore a high head And the mane on his foretop Was fine as silk thread I rode him in England I rode him in Spain He never did lose, boys He always did gain So come all you gamblers Wherever you are And don't bet your money On that little grey mare Most likely she'll stumble Most likely she'll fall But you never will lose, boys On my noble Stewball As they were a-riding 'Bout halfway around That grey mare she stumbled And fell to the ground And away out yonder Ahead of them all Came a prancin' and a dancin' My noble Stewball