stewball

stewball was a good horse

he wore his head high

and the mane on his foretop

was fine as silk thread. i rode him in england

i rode him in spain

and i never did lose

boys

i 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 never you'll lose

boys

on my noble stewball. as they were a-riding

'bout halfway round

that grey mare she stumbled

and fell on the ground. and way out yonder

ahead of them all

came a-prancing and a-dancing

my noble stewball. stewball was a race horse

and by the day he was mine

he never drank water

he always drank wine.