Stewball

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Oh Stewball was a racehorse, and I wish he were mine.
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He never drank water, he always drank wine.


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His bridle was silver, his mane it was gold.
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And the worth of his saddle has never been told.


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Oh the fairgrounds were crowded, and Stewball was there
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But the betting was heavy on the bay and the mare.


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And a-way up yonder, ahead of them all,
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Came a-prancing and a-dancing my noble Stewball.


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I bet on the grey mare, I bet on the bay
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If I'd have bet on old Stewball, I'd be a free man today.


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Oh the hoot owl, she hollers, and the turtle dove moans.
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I'm a poor boy in trouble, I'm a long way from home.


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Oh Stewball was a racehorse, and I wish he were mine.
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He never drank water, he always drank wine.
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